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LONDON  BOOK  CO 

224  vv.  Broadway    ' 
GlendaJe,  Caiif.  91204 
^'^one:  CI  4-0828 


Sni/raird    by  O  Tdim 


SELECTIONS 


FROM    THE 


WRITINGS     OF    FENELON 


A  MEMOIR  OF  HIS  LIFE. 


BY   MRS.    FOLLEN. 


FIFTH    EDITION.     REVISED    AND    ENLARGED. 


BOSTON : 

SAMUEL    G.    SIMPKINS. 

1844. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congrrss,  in  the  year  1841, 

BY    SAMUEL   G.    SIMPKINS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


I.  R.  BUTTS,  PRINTER, 

BCBOOI.  STREET. 


PREFACE 


TO    THE    FIRST    EDITION. 


BY   HENRY  D.  SEDGWICK. 


No  apology  is  necessary  for  giving  anything  to 
the  public  from  the  pen  of  Fenelon,  Such  were 
the  elevation  and  liberality  of  his  spirit,  that  it 
soared  above  party,  to  difiuse  itself  over  all  the  in- 
terests of  humanity. 

He  was  in  spirit  and  in  truth  a  Christian  ;  a  lover 
of  God  and  man.  His  pure  and  expansive  thoughts 
could  not  in  their  nature  be  confined  to  any  sect 
or  country. 

It  is  true  that  he  was  not  above  all  the  prejudices 
and  influences  of  education.  Who  is  ?  But  his 
was  one  of  those  pure  and  beneficent  spirits,  which 
from  their  natures  belong  to  the  whole  of  mankind. 

It  is  not  contended  that  he  has  done  as  much  as 
some  others  to  enlarge  the  limits  of  human  science. 


PREFACE. 


His  political  maxims  were  just  and  pure,  and  they 
were  fearlessly  promulgated  at  the  expense  of  his 
highest  temporal  interests  ;  and  it  is  scarcely  worth 
consideration,  whether  he  were  as  well  acquainted 
with  all  the  rules  of  political  economy,  as  others, 
whose  residence  and  situation  gave  them  greater 
advantages  in  that  respect.  It  is  not  as  a  politician, 
but  as  a  Christian  and  a  man,  that  we  regard  his 
character. 

Fenelon  was  born  and  brought  up  a  Roman 
Catholic.  It  was  not  possible  that  his  thoughts 
and  feelings  should  not  be  affected  by  this  circum- 
stance. What  we  have  to  wonder  and  rejoice  at, 
is,  that  his  pure  and  expansive  affections  burst  all 
exclusive  bands.  His  heart  belonged  to  no  creed, 
no  country,  but  embraced  the  earth,  and  soared  to 
heaven.  He  loved  all  that  was  lovely  on  earth, 
and  his  aspirations  were  to  all  that  is  elevated 
above  it. 

This  putting  forth  of  the  affections  from  and 
above  himself,  was  the  ennobling  and  distinctive 
trait  in  the  character  of  Fenelon,  He  loved  men, 
not  because  they  were  of  the  same  race  as  himselfj 
but  because  they  were  susceptible  of  virtue  and 
happiness.     He  loved  God,  not  merely  as  his  ben- 


PREFACE.  Vll 

efactor,  but  as  the  great  source  of  felicity  to  all  sen- 
tient existence. 

Fenelon  was  pious,  —  pious  in  the  highest  sense 
of  the  term.  He  did  not  submit  to  commands,  be- 
cause the  lawgiver  was  powerful  and  dould  punish 
disobedience ;  nor  yet  simply  because  he  was  just 
and  his  commands  equitable  ;  but  his  spirit  volun- 
tarily went  forth  to  co-operate  in  all  the  designs  of 
goodness.  His  efforts  were  never  retarded  or  inter- 
rupted. He  threw  off,  if  he  ever  felt  them,  the 
bonds  of  indolence  ;  and  the  mists  of  selfishness 
never  impaired  his  vision.  The  pure  and  holy  in- 
fluences of  such  a  spirit  should  surely  be  diffused 
as  widely  as  possible,  and  this  is  the  design  of  the 
present  volume. 

The  direct  influence  of  such  a  mind  ought  not 
to  be  confined  to  those  who  have  acquired  a  foreign 
language,  and  can  afford  to  purchase  books  exten- 
sively. It  is  not  invidious  to  say,  that  there  is  no 
existing  translation  of  Fenelon 's  works  which  ren- 
ders this  volume  unnecessary.  To  render  the  work 
as  cheap  and  easily  attainable  as  possible,  it  is  con- 
fined to  a  few  selections.  The  translation  is  a  free 
one ;  but  sedulous  care  has  been  taken  never  to 
depart  from  the  spirit  of  the  author,  nor  to  intro- 


VIU  PREFACE. 

duce  any  but  his  ideas.  As  the  productions  of  a 
Roman  Catholic,  and  one  zealously  attached  to 
his  church,  his  writings  necessarily  contain  many 
things  that  could  not  be  acceptable  to  Christians  of 
all  denominations.  These  have  been  uniformly 
omitted.  The  translator  has  no  other  ambition 
than  to  render  the  rich  treasures  of  the  mind  and 
heart  of  Fenelon  accessible  to  those  of  another  age 
and  country,  nor  any  other  wish  than  that  the 
reader  may  imbibe  something  of  the  spirit  of  the 
author. 

Boston,    1828. 


INTRODUCTORY     REMARKS 


FOURTH     EDITION 


I  HAVE  been  requested  by  the  translator  to  prefix 
a  few  lines  to  the  present  edition  of  her  ''  Selections 
from  Fenelon  ]  "  and  though  aware  that  her  labors 
need  no  recommendation  of  mine,  I  cannot  deny 
this  expression  of  sympathy  and  friendship.  To 
many  of  the  readers  of  this  little  work,  the  name 
of  the  translator,  given  now  for  the  first  time,  will 
bring  back  the  memory  of  that  excellent  man,* 
who,  were  he  living,  would  perform  the  office  to 
which  I  am  now  called.  Before  he  was  taken 
from  us,  he  wished  that  a  new  edition  of  the  "  Se- 
lections "  should  appear  ;  and  it  gives  me  pleasure 
to  associate  myself,  by  this  brief  introduction,  with 
a  friend,  who  rendered  me  the  highest  service  man 

*  Charles  Follen. 


INTRODUCTORY    REMARKS. 


can  render  man,  by  exalting  my  conception  of  per- 
fection, and  my  aspirations  after  it.  What  he  was, 
and  how  much  we  have  lost  in  him,  will  be  better 
understood  by  a  collection  of  his  works,  with  a 
memoir,  now  passing  through  the  press. 

It  would  be  presumptuous  to  think  of  recom- 
mending Fenelon  to  the  public  at  this  day.  In 
truth  he  never  needed  patronage.  By  a  singular 
coincidence  of  circumstances,  his  rare  excellence 
was  revealed  at  the  very  beginning  of  his  career. 
It  is  the  peculiarity  of  his  reputation,  that  it  is  as 
great  among  Protestants  as  among  Catholics.  He 
belongs  to  no  sect.  He  is  felt  to  express  in  his 
writings  and  life  the  universal  spirit  of  Christianity ; 
and  this  impression  was  as  strong  in  his  life  as  at 
the  present  moment.  He  was  persecuted  and  vir- 
tually banished  ;  but  his  fame  grew  by  what  was 
meant  to  obscure  it.  He  fell  under  the  censure  of 
the  church  ;  but  it  was  remarked  at  the  time,  that 
his  whole  fault  lay  "  in  loving  God  too  much ;" 
and  Catholicism  received  glory  from  his  unsullied 
fame  at  the  moment  she  condemned  him. 

These  lines  are  not  written  to  recommend  Fen- 
elon ;  but  a  word  may  be  said  on  the  subject  of 
the  following  "Selections."     Tiiey  consist  of  por- 


INTRODUCTORY    REMARKS.  XI 

tions  of  his  writings,  which,  whilst  they  do  justice 
to  his  spirit  and  modes  of  thought,  are  least  liable 
to  objection.  Fenelon  is  sometimes  open  to  objec- 
tion. He  was  distinguished  by  genius,  devotion, 
and  his  thirst  for  perfection,  rather  than  by  logical 
accuracy  of  thought  and  expression.  He  utters 
great  truths,  but  often  without  due  qualification  or 
restraint ;  and  accordingly  his  writings  may  mis- 
lead readers  of  much  sensibility  and  little  reflection. 
The  idea  of  God  shone  within  him  so  brightly,  that 
sometimes  all  others  seemed  to  fade  before  it.  The 
great  duty  on  which  he  insists,  is  the  absorption 
of  the  human  will  in  the  Divine.  Nothing  would 
satisfy  him  but  entire  self-immolation.  To  promote 
''pure  love,"  perfect  simplicity  of  soul,  entire  free- 
dom from  by-ends  and  from  subtle  references  to 
self,  this  was  his  aim.  He  not  only  assailed  the 
grosser  forms  of  the  selfish  principle,  but  its  most 
minute  and  delicate  workings,  its  jealousies  and 
anxieties,  its  exaggerations  of  the  good  and  its  ex- 
tenuations of  the  evil  within  us,  its  shrinkings  from 
the  cross,  its  impatience  under  the  consciousness  of 
defects,  its  yearnings  for  perfection  without  the 
slow  processes  of  mortification,  its  slowness  to  sur- 
render everything  to  the  will  of  God,     He  even 


XU  INTKODUCTOKY    EEWAEKS. 

feared  that  the  pleasures  of  piety  might  become  a 
snare,  might  feed  the  self-pleasing  spirit,  and  might 
thus  war  against  the  single,  all-sacrificing  love  of 
God. 

In  all  these  modes  of  thought,  there  is  a  grand 
essential  truth.  He  had  rare  glimpses  of  the  per- 
fection of  the  soul.  Yet  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  he  has  sufficiently  guarded  himself  against 
misapprehension.  His  philosophy  belonged  more 
to  the  heart  than  the  head,  and  his  language  cannot 
always  stand  the  test  of  rigid  criticism.  He  is 
charged,  and  not  without  reason,  with  branding  as 
sins,  those  references  to  our  own  good,  which  are 
not  only  innocent,  but  necessary  to  our  preserva- 
tion, and  with  condemning  that  respect  to  future 
rewards,  which  the  Scriptures  not  only  allow,  but 
enjoin.  On  these  and  other  points  a  false  philoso- 
phy of  human  nature  obscured  his  perceptions. 
He  looked  with  secret  distrust  on  its  various  senti- 
ments and  faculties,  and  dared  not  give  them  due 
play.  In  his  most  spiritual  Avorks  which  are  most 
read,  the  power  of  recognizing  God  is  set  forth,  not 
only  as  the  supreme  power  of  the  soul,  but  almost 
as  the  only  one  to  be  brought  into  free  action. 
Tlujs,  however  highly  we  may  reverence  Fenelon, 


INTRODUCTORY    REMARKS.  XIU 

his  writings  are  not  to  be  exclusively  studied,  if 
we  would  avoid  a  partial  development  of  our  na- 
ture. Still,  in  his  own  province  of  thought  and 
feeling,  he  is  grand.  His  simple  words,  (and  who 
is  so  simple?)  penetrate  to  the  depths  of  the  soul. 
He  exposes,  as  hardly  any  one  else  does,  the  great 
enemy  within  us,  and  leads  and  incites  us  to  those 
secret  conflicts  with  the  profound  workings  of 
selfishness,  which  alone  guide  to  the  pnre  love 
of  God. 

There  is  one  consideration  which  adds  inex- 
pressibly to  the  worth  of  Fenelon's  writings.  They 
came  from  his  heart.  They  were  transcripts  of 
his  own  experience.  It  will  not  do  to  call  them 
the  works  of  a  visionary.  He  did  not  dream  them  ; 
he  lived  them.  All  our  biographies  of  him,  and 
we  have  not  a  few,  agree  in  testifying  to  the  an-  ^ 
gelic  sweetness  and  purity  of  his  spirit.  His  char- 
acter was  so  single  ;  there  was  such  a  harmony  in 
its  features,  such  a  unity  in  the  manifestations  of 
his  soul  ;  his  light,  though  so  mild  and  tender,  was 
still  so  clear,  and  pure,  and  penetrating,  that  he 
left  on  all  around  him  one  and  the  same  impression  ; 
and  the  voice  of  his  generation  has  come  down  to 
us  uncontradicted,  undivided,  in  attestation  of  his 

B* 


XIV  INTRODUCTORY    REMARKS. 

rare  sanctity  and  goodness.  This  great  soul  breath- 
ed itself  out  with  child-like  simplicity  in  his  writ- 
ings. In  reading  these,  we  commune  not  with  his 
intellect  alone,  but  with  his  whole  spirit,  not  with 
an  author,  but  with  Fenelon,  as  he  spoke  and  lived 
in  his  common  walks,  and  among  the  men  of  his 
own  age. 

Wm.  E.  Channing. 
Boston,  March  27th,  1841. 


0 


CONTENTS. 


Memoir  of  Fenelon, .  3 

On  the  Existence  of  God,    .....  29 

On  the  Knowledge  and  Love  of  God,     ...  75 

On  Piety, 84 

On  Prayer, 100 

The  Spirit  of  God  teaches  Within,    .         .         .  117 

Upon  the  Use  of  Crosses, 120 

Upon  Daily  Faults, 126 

Upon  the  Amusements,   that    belong    to    our    Con- 
dition,       129 

Against  Temptations,     ......  133 

Upon  Fidelity  in  Little  Things,      ....  135 

On  Simplicity,         .......  138 

Directions  for  the  Conscience  of  a  King        .         .  146 

On  the  Education  of  Girls,          ....  151 

Letters,      .........  177 

Reflections  for  every  Day  in  the  Month,          .  273 

Meditations,        ........  309 

General  Prayer,    .......  324 

Evening  Prayer, 326 

Prayer  to  God, 327 


MEMOIE    OF    FENELON. 


PocHE  menti  vegg'  io  ricohe  di  lume  ; 
E  quelle  poche  oscura  orgoglio  altero  : 
Luminoso  intelletto,  e  uniil  pensiero 
Di  star  concord!  insiem  non  han  costume. 

Sallo  per  sue  dolor  1'  Angiol  primiero, 

Che  SI  fulgido  usci  di  man  del  Name  ; 
Ah!  spiegherebbe  in  ciel  le  aurate  piume, 
Se  non  toroea  superbia  il  lor  sentiero. 

Quindi  in  quest'  Angiol  novo  io  non  ammiro 
L'  ampio  saper,  che  folgorando  ascende 
Per  le  vie  della  terra  e  dell'  erapiro  ; 

Allor  1'  ammiro,  quando  in  sfe  diseende, 
E  quel  che  gli  orna  il  crin  fulgido  giro 
A  se  Io  toglie,  e  al  Donator  Io  rende. 


A  mind  full  fraught  with  intellectual  light, 
Is  rarely  found  ;  and  oft  ivhon  found,  its  beams, 
Obscured  by  pride,  emit  but  shadowy  gleams  ; 
Humility  scarce  dwells  witli  genius  bright. 

The  first  and  brightest  of  the  angel  host. 
Son  of  the  Morning  !  still  in  heaven  he  might 
On  golden  pinions  bear  his  upward  flight, 
Had  not  his  glorious  state  by  pride  been  lost. 

Hence  this  new  Angel,  my  admiring  eye 
Follows  with  far  loss  rapture  when  he  soars. 
In  intellectual  greatness  rising  high. 
And,  like  the  lightning,  heaven  and  earth  explores. 
Than  when  from  his  own  brow  ho  takes  the  golden  crown. 
And  at  his  feet,  who  gave  it,  humbly  lays  it  down. 

Nai.  Gaz. 


MEMOIR     OF     FENELON.* 


Francis  de  Salignac  de  la  Mothe  Fenelon  was 
born  at  the  castle  of  Fenelon,  in  Perigord,  on  the  sixth 
day  of  August,  1651.  His  family  has  derived  more  lus- 
tre from  the  single  name  of  the  Archbishop  of  Cambrai, 
than  from  a  long  series  of  ancestors,  who  filled  the  most 
distinguished  stations  in  the  cabinet,  in  the  field,  and  in 
the  church. 

Fenelon  was  brought  up  under  the  paternal  roof  until 
his  twelfth  year,  for  his  constitution  was  very  weak  and 
delicate.  This  circumstance,  added  to  his  amiable  dis- 
position, made  him  an  object  of  peculiar  tenderness  to  his 
father.  There  was  nothing  remarkable  attending  his 
early  education ;  it  was  entrusted  to  a  preceptor,  who 
appears  to  have  possessed  the  principles  of  sound  litera- 
ture, and  who  knew  how  to  render   it  acceptable  to  his 

*  This  Memoir  is  intended  to  contain  all  the  interesting  facts 
relating  to  the  life  of  Fenelon.  It  has  been  compiled  from  vari- 
ous authors,  whose  own  words  have  been  retained  wherever  it 
seemed  expedient. 


4  MEMOIR    OF    FENELON. 

pupil.  He  gave  him  in  a  few  years  a  more  extensive 
knowledge  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages,  than  is 
usually  obtained  at  so  early  an  age.  When  he  was  twelve 
years  old,  he  was  sent  to  the  University  of  Cahors,  not 
far  removed  from  the  residence  of  his  family.  He  there 
completed  his  philosophical  and  his  philological  studies, 
and  he  even  took  the  degrees  which  were  afterwards  of 
sufficient  efficacy  when  he  was  elevated  to  ecclesiastical 
dignities.  The  Marquis  Antoine  de  Fenelon,  his  uncle, 
interested  by  what  he  heard  of  his  young  nephew,  sent 
for  him  to  Paris  and  placed  him  at  the  college  of  Plessis, 
there  to  continue  his  philosophical  studies,  where  he  also 
commenced  those  of  theology.  It  was  here  he  formed  a 
friendship  with  the  young  Abbe  de  Noailles,  afterwards 
cardinal  and  archbishop  of  Paris. 

The  young  Abbe  de  Fenelon  distinguished  himself  so 
much  at  the  college  of  Plessis,  that  they  suffered  him  to 
preach  at  the  age  of  fifteen ;  his  sermon  had  an  extra- 
ordinary success.  A  similar  circumstance  is  related  of 
Bossuet,  who  at  the  same  age  preached  before  the  most 
brilliant  assembly  in  Paris  with  the  same  applause.  It  is 
curious  to  remark  this  coincidence  of  opinion,  so  prema- 
turely formed  of  two  men,  who  were  both  destined  to  be 
the  instructers  of  princes,  and  to  become  the  ornament 
and  glory  of  the  French  church. 

The  Marquis  de  Fenelon  was  rather  alarmed  than  grati- 
fied by  the  encomiums  bestowed  upon  his  nephew.  Some 
idea  of  the  frankness  and  austerity  of  his  character,  may 
be  formed  from  what  he  said  to  M.  do  Harlay  upon  his 
nomination  to  the  archbishopric  of  Paris.  "  There  is, 
sir,"  said  he,  "  a  great  difference  between  the  day  when 
such  a  nomination  procures  you  the  compliments  of  all 
France,  and  the  day  of  your  death,  when  you  will  appear 


MEMOIR    OF    FENELON.  O 

before  God,  to  render  him  an  account  of  your  office." 
He  had  lost  his  only  son  at  the  siege  of  Candia,  and  had 
found  in  religion  the  only  support  that  could  uphold  his 
courage  under  so  severe  an  affliction. 

Such  was  the  man  who'  acted  as  the  father  and  guide 
of  Fenelon,  in  the  path  of  virtue  and  honor.  Providence 
treasured  up  for  the  Marquis  de  Fenelon  the  most  lenient 
of  all  consolations  in  replacing  the  son  he  had  lost,  by  a 
nephew,  who  became  the  object  of  his  tenderest  care  and 
affection.  This  nephew  the  Marquis  hastened  to  secure 
from  the  snares  of  a  deceitful  world,  by  placing  him  at 
the  seminary  of  St.  Sulpice,  under  the  direction  of  M. 
Tronson,  there  to  acquire  a  just  knowledge  of  himself. 

It  was  from  the  erudition,  the  example,  the  tender  and 
affectionate  piety  of  this  excellent  man,  that  the  youthful 
Fenelon  derived  his  relish  for  virtue  and  religion,  which 
made  him  so  perfect  a  model  of  excellence,  in  all  those 
various  employments  with  which  he  was  entrusted,  and  of 
those  elevated  functions  which  he  discharged.  It  was 
about  this  time  that  Fenelon  is  supposed  to  have  contem- 
plated devoting  himself  to  the  mission  of  Canada,  as  the 
congregation  of  St.  Sulpice  had  a  considerable  establish- 
ment at  Montreal ;  but  his  uncle  was  justly  alarmed  at 
the  project,  which  was  incompatible  with  the  delicate 
constitution  of  his  nephew,  and  he  refused  his  permission. 
He  accordingly,  after  having  been  ordained  at  St.  Sulpice, 
devoted  himself  to  the  functions  of  his  holy  office,  in  the 
same  parish. 

It  was  during  the  exercise  of  this  ministry,  that  Fene- 
lon, by  mixing  with  all  ranks  and  conditions,  by  associa- 
ting with  the  unfortunate  and  the  sorrowful,  by  assisting 
the  weak,  and  by  that  union  of  mildness,  of  energy,  and 
of  benevolence,  which  adapts  itself  to  every  character, 
1* 


6  MEMOIR    OF    FENELON. 

and  to  every  situation,  acquired  the  knowledge  of  tlie 
moral  and  physical  ills  which  afflict  human  nature.  It 
-was  by  this  habitual  and  immediate  communication  with 
all  classes  of  society,  that  he  obtained  the  melancholy 
conviction  of  the  miseries  which  distress  the  greater  part 
of  mankind  ;  and  to  the  profound  impression  of  this  truth 
through  his  whole  life,  we  must  ascribe  that  tender  com- 
miseration for  the  unfortunate,  which  he  manifests  in  all 
his  writings,  and  which  he  displayed  still  more  powerfully 
in  all  his  actions. 

He  devoted  himself  for  three  years  to  the  ecclesiastical 
ministry;  and  at  the  end  of  that  time,  he  was  appointed, 
by  the  curate  of  the  parish  of  St.  Sulpice,  to  explain  the 
Sacred  Writings  to  the  people  on  Sundays  and  on  festival 
days ;  an  office  which  first  introduced  him  to  public  no- 
tice, and  from  which  he  derived  the  greatest  personal 
advantages. 

Fenelon  resumed,  in  1674,  his  project  of  becoming  a 
missionary ;  but  being  convinced  that  his  health  would 
not  sustain  the  rigor  of  a  Canadian  climate,  he  directed 
his  thoughts  to  the  Levant.  We  have  a  proof  of  this 
intention  in  a  letter  written  by  him,  dated  at  Sarlat,  the 
residence  of  his  uncle,  where  he  was  upon  a  visit.  It  is 
so  remarkable,  that  we  have  thought  it  worthy  of  tran- 
scription. 

"  Several  trifling  events  have  hitherto  prevented  my  re- 
turn to  Paris  ;  but  I  shall  at  length  set  out,  sir,  and!  shall 
almost  fly  thither.  But  compared  to  this  journey,  I  medi- 
tate a  nnich  greater  one.  The  whole  of  Greece  opens 
before  me,  and  the  Sultan  flies  in  terror ;  the  Peloponnesus 
breathes  again  in  liberty,  and  the  church  of  Corinth  shall 
flourish  once  more  ;  the  voice  of  the  Apostle  shall  be 


MEMOIR    OF    FENELON.  7 

heard  there  again.  I  seem  to  be  transported  among 
those  enchanting  places,  and  those  precious  ruins,  where, 
while  I  collect  the  most  curious  relics  of  antiquity,  I 
imbibe  also  its  spirit.  I  seek  for  the  Areopagus,  where 
St.  Paul  declared  to  the  sages  of  the  world,  the  unknown 
God!  But  next  to  what  is  sacred,  I  am  delighted  with 
what  is  profane ;  and  I  disdain  not  to  descend  to  the 
Piraeus,  where  Socrates  drew  up  the  plan  of  his  Repub- 
lic. I  reach  the  double  summit  of  Parnassus ;  I  pluck 
the  laurels  of  Delphi ;  I  revel  in  the  charms  of  Tempe. 
"  When  will  the  blood  of  the  Turks  mingle  with  that 
of  the  Persians  on  the  plains  of  Marathon,  and  leave  the 
whole  of  Greece  to  religion,  to  philosophy,  and  the  fine 
arts,  who  regard  her  as  their  country. 

'  Arva,  beata, 
Petamus  arva,  divites  et  insulas.' 

"  Nor  will  I  forget  thee,  oh  thou  happy  island,  conse- 
crated by  the  celestial  visions  of  the  well  beloved  disciple. 
Oh  happy  Patmos  !  I  will  kneel  upon  the  earth  and  kiss 
the  steps  of  the  apostle,  and  I  shall  believe  that  the 
heavens  open  on  my  sight.  I  behold  the  downfall  of 
schism,  and  the  union  of  the  East  and  West,  and  the 
day-spring  again  dawning  in  Asia,  after  a  night  of  such 
long  darkness.  I  behold  the  land  which  has  been  sancti- 
fied by  the  steps  of  Jesus,  and  watered  by  his  blood,  de- 
livered from  its  profanation  and  clothed  anew  in  glory ; 
and  I  behold  also  the  children  of  Abraham,  scattered 
over  the  fiice  of  the  globe,  and  more  numerous  than  the 
stars  of  heaven,  assembled  from  the  four  quarters  of  the 
earth,  coming  to  acknowledge  Christ  whom  they  pierced, 
and  to  show  the  resurrection  to  the  end  of  time. 


a  BIEMOIR    OF    FENELON. 

"  This  is  enough,  sir,  and  you  will  probably  be  glad  to 
learn,  that  this  is  my  last  letter,  and  the  end  of  my 
enthusiasm,  which  has  perhaps  wearied  you.  Excuse 
the  eagerness  which  prompts  me  to  discourse  with  you  at 
a  distance,  while  waiting  till  I  can  do  it  in  person. 

"  Francis  de  Fenelon." 

We  perceive  from  the  tone  and  style  of  this  letter,  that 
it  was  written  during  that  youthful  period  of  life,  when 
the  untamed  imagination  delights  to  decorate  what  it 
contemplates,  and  to  scatter  forth  its  brightest  hues.  It 
was  probably  addressed  to  Bossuet.  Fenelon,  it  appears, 
succeeded  in  obtaining  the  consent  of  his  uncle  to  his 
going  as  a  missionary  to  the  Levant,  who  could  not  allege 
the  same  objection  as  against  his  going  to  Canada.  There 
is  no  doubt,  however,  that  the  fear  of  afflicting  pain  upon 
his  uncle,  and  subsequent  reflection,  made  him  suspend 
the  execution  of  his  project,  and  soon  after,  his  friends 
succeeded  in  giving  his  zeal  another  direction ;  he  was 
nominated  by  the  archbishop  of  Paris,  Superior  to  the 
society  of  Nouvelles  Catholiques.  It  had  been  instituted 
in  1631  ;  its  object  was  to  strengthen  the  faith  of  newly 
converted  females,  and  to  instruct  persons  of  the  same 
sex,  who  showed  any  desire  of  conversion,  in  the  doc- 
trines of  the  church.  Fenelon  entered  upon  this  path 
with  pleasure,  as  it  had  some  similarity  with  his  earliest 
wish  of  becoming  a  missionary.  It  was  at  this  time  that 
he  formed  an  intiniacy  with  Bossuet,  for  whom  he  seems 
to  have  had  a  filial  veneration. 

To  enable  him  to  live  in  Paris,  the  Bishop  of  Sarlat, 
liis  uncle,  resigned  to  liim  the  priory  of  Carenac.  This 
benefice,  which  was  worth  about  three  or  four  thousand 
livrcs  a  year,  was  the  oidy  one  which  Fenelon  had  ujitil 


MEMOIR   OF   TENELON.  9 

his  forty-third  year.  For  ten  years  he  devoted  himself  to 
the  simple  direction  of  a  community  of  women.  There 
may  not  be  wanting  those  who  would  say  that  such  an 
employment,  at  his  time  of  life,  must  have  circumscribed 
his  mind,  by  fixing  it  upon  uninteresting  details  and  use- 
less studies.  It  was,  however,  at  this  period  that  he  wrote 
his  first  works,  the  "  Treatise  on  the  Education  of  Girls," 
and  the  "  Treatise  on  the  Mission  of  the  Clergy."  The 
first  of  these  was  not  composed  for  the  public,  but  for  his 
friend  the  Duchess  of  Beauvilliers.  Thus,  a  work  which 
was  originally  intended  for  the  use  of  a  single  family,  has 
become  an  elementary  book,  equally  adapted  to  every 
family,  and  to  all  times  and  all  places. 

Fenelon  was  called  at  this  time  to  mourn  the  death  of 
his  uncle,  who  had  directed  his  first  steps  in  the  path  of 
life,  and  who  had  been  still  more  useful  to  him  by  turning 
his  heart  towards  the  sublime  idea  of  christian  perfection. 
It  was  under  his  eyes,  it  was  in  his  house,  and  in  the  in- 
timacy of  that  tender  confidence  which  a  father  delights 
to  show  towards  a  fa-vorite  child,  that  Fenelon  imbibed 
his  unshaken  conviction  of  the  duties  and  of  the  great- 
ness of  his  ministry. 

The  next  event  in  the  life  of  Fenelon,  was  the  choice 
of  him  by  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  as  a  missionary  to  con- 
vert the  Protestants  of  the  provinces  of  Poitou  and  Saint- 
onge.  Fenelon,  in  an  interview  with  the  king  before  he 
set  out  upon  his  mission,  refused  a  military  escort ;  and 
when  the  king  represented  the  danger  he  might  be  ex- 
posed to,  he  answered,  "  Sire,  ought  a  missionary  to  fear 
danger  ?  If  you  hope  for  an  apostolical  harvest,  we  must 
go  in  the  true  character  of  Apostles.  I  would  rather  per- 
ish by  the  hands  of  my  mistaken  brethren,  than  see  one 
of  them  exposed  to  the  inevitable  violence  of  the  mili- 


10  MEMOIR    OF    FENELON. 

tary."  In  a  letter  to  a  Duke,  he  said,  "  The  work  of 
God  is  not  effected  in  the  heart  by  force ;  that  is  not  the 
true  spirit  of  the  Gospel." 

An  officer  in  the  army  consulted  him  to  know  what 
course  he  should  adopt  with  such  of  his  soldiers  as  were 
Hugonots.  Fenelon  answered,  "  Tormenting  and  teas- 
ing heretic  soldiers  into  conversion,  will  answer  no  end ; 
it  will  not  succeed,  it  will  only  produce  hypocrites.  The 
converts  so  made  will  desert  in  crowds."  And  long 
afterwards,  when  he  was  archbishop  of  Cambrai,  hearing 
that  some  peasants  in  Hainaut  who  were  descended  from 
Protestants,  and  who  held  still  the  same  opinions,  had 
received  the  sacrament  from  a  minister  of  their  own  per- 
suasion, but  that  when  they  were  discovered,  they  dis- 
guised their  sentiments  and  even  went  to  mass ;  he  said 
to  the  reformed  minister,  "  Brother,  you  see  what  has 
happened.  It  is  full  time  that  these  good  people  should 
have  some  fixed  religion  ;  go,  and  obtain  their  names  and 
those  of  all  their  families ;  I  give  you  my  word,  that  in 
less  that  six  months  they  shall  all  have  passports."  This 
same  clergyman,  whose  name  was  Brunice,  he  received 
at  his  table  as  a  brother,  and  treated  him  with  great 
kindness. 

This  was  the  spirit  that  animated  Fenelon  in  his  mis- 
sion to  the  Protestants.  Those  who  were  not  converted 
by  him,  were  charmed  with  his  character ;  while  they 
refused  to  yield  to  his  pathetic  exhortations,  they  never 
refused  him  their  esteem  and  their  admiration,  and  we 
may  even  say  their  love  and  confidence. 

The  reputation  which  Fenelon  acquired  by  his  exer- 
tions in  Poitou,  made  him  an  object  of  public  attention, 
and  it  was  not  long  after  that  he  was  appointed  preceptor 
to  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  the  heir  apparent  to  the  king- 


MEMOIR    OF    FENELON.  11 

dom.  This  he  owed  to  the  friendship  and  esteem  of  the 
Duke  de  Beauvilliers,  who  had  been  appointed  by  the 
king  to  be  the  governor  to  the  young  prince,  and  who 
immediately  named  Fenelon  for  his  preceptor.  The 
choice  of  the  new  governor  and  preceptor  was  no  sooner 
made  public,  than  all  France  resounded  with  applause. 

The  character  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  is  described 
as  violent  and  difficult  to  manage  ;  he  is  said  to  have 
given  indications  in  his  earliest  years,  of  everything  that 
was  to  be  feared  in  temper  and  disposition.  "  The  Duke 
of  Burgundy,"  says  St.  Simon,  "  was  unfeeling  and  irri- 
table to  the  last  degree,  even  against  inanimate  objects. 
•Passionately  addicted  to  every  kind  of  pleasure,  he  was 
often  ferocious,  naturally  cruel,  and  inordinately  proud; 
he  looked  upon  men  only  as  atoms,  with  whom  he  had 
no  sort  of  similarity  whatever.  Even  his  brothers  scarce- 
ly seemed,  in  his  estimation,  to  form  an  intermediate  link 
between  him  and  the  rest  of  mankind.  But  the  brilliancy 
of  his  mind,  and  his  penetration,  were  at  all  times  evi- 
dent, and  even  in  his  moments  of  greatest  violence,  he 
shewed  proofs  of  genius.  The  extent  and  vigor  of  his 
mind  were  prodigious,  and  prevented  him  from  steady 
and  direct  application." 

Such  was  the  prince  confided  to  Fenelon.  There  was 
everything  to  be  feared,  and  everything  to  be  hoped  from 
a  soul  possessing  such  energy.  From  the  combined 
efforts  of  those  engaged  in  his  instruction,  but  principal- 
ly^ as  it  seems,  from  the  influence  of  the  religious  prin- 
ciple, as  employed  by  Fenelon,  the  unruly  and  violent 
prince  became  affable,  mild,  humane,  moderate,  patient, 
modest,  humble,  and  severe  only  towards  himself;  wholly 
occupied  with  his  future  obligations  in  life,  which  he  felt 
to  be  great,  and  thinking  only  of  uniting  the  duties  of  the 


12  MEMOIR    OF    FENELON. 

son  and  the  subject,  with  those  which  he  saw  himself 
destined  afterwards  to  fulfil.  But  what  incessant  vigi- 
lance, what  art,  what  industry,  what  skill,  what  variety  in 
the  means  adopted,  and  what  delicacy  of  observation 
must  have  concurred  to  produce  such  an  extraordinary 
alteration  in  the  character  of  a  child,  a  prince,  and  the 
heir  to  a  throne. 

Fenelon  composed  his  "  Fables,"  the  "  Dialogues  of 
the  Dead,"  and  "  Telemachus,"  for  the  use  of  the  Prince  ; 
but  as  we  have  before  mentioned,  it  was  by  keeping  alive 
the  feeling  of  accountability  to  the  King  of  kings,  that  he 
acquired  such  an  influence  over  the  mind  of  the  high- 
spirited  Duke,  and  succeeded  in  subduing  his  passions. 
He  was  ever  presenting  to  him  that  awful  day  when  he 
was  to  appear  before  the  Judge  of  all.  He  strove  by 
every  means  to  awaken  and  cherish  in  the  soul  of  his 
pupil,  sentiments  that  were  truly  religious,  and  to  make 
him  feel  the  solemn  truth,  that  he  was  ever  speaking  and 
acting  in  the  presence  of  God.  This  was  the  secret  of 
the  almost  miraculous  effect  produced  upon  the  character 
of  the  pupil  of  Fenelon. 

During  five  years,  Fenelon  received  no  mark  of  favor 
from  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  and  the  small  living  bestowed 
upon  him  by  his  uncle,  was  but  a  scanty  means  of  sup- 
port to  hiin.  He  is  described  as  being  obliged  to  prac- 
tice the  most  rigid  economy.  At  last,  at  the  age  of  forty- 
three,  he  was  nominated  to  the  Abbey  of  St.  Valery.  The 
king  informed  him  of  this  in  person,  and  apologized  for 
so  tardy  an  acknowledgment  of  his  gratitude. 

His  success  in  the  education  of  the  Prince,  his  excel- 
lent character,  his  conciliating  manners,  had  produced 
him  the  love  and  esteem  of  all  who  knew  him ;  and  a 
year  after  this  time,  he  was  elevated  to  the  dignity  of 


MEMOIR    OF   FENELON.  13 

Archbishop  of  Cambrai.  Fenelon  showed  his  disinter- 
estedness, by  immediately  resigning  the  Abbey  of  St. 
Valery.  Louis  at  first  refused  to  receive  his  resignation, 
but  Fenelon  insisted,  saying  the  resources  of  the  arch- 
bishopric of  Cambrai  were  such  as  made  a  plurality  of 
livings  against  the  canons  of  the  church. 

A  short  time  previous  to  his  nomination  to  the  arch- 
bishopric of  Cambrai,  his  acquaintance  commenced  with 
Madame  Guyon,  which  was  the  cause  of  his  unhappy 
controversy  with  his  friend  Bossuet.  The  doctrine  of  dis- 
interested love,  or  that  God  is  to  be  loved  for  his  own  per- 
fections, without  any  view  to  the  future  rewards  or  punish- 
ments, which  was  the  doctrine  of  Fenelon,  appears  to  have 
been  the  radical  point  of  controversy.  They  who  sup- 
posed that  they  had  attained  this  habitual  state  of  divine 
love,  were  called  Q,uietists,  from  the  perfect  freedom  from 
hope  or  fear  that  it  produced.  They  thought  that  God 
was  to  be  worshipped  in  the  entire  silence  and  stillness  of 
the  soul ;  in  a  perfect  renunciation  of  self  to  him. 

Fenelon  who  was  one  of  four  ecclesiastics  appointed  to 
examine  this  doctrine  of  Madame  Guyon,  could  find  noth- 
ing in  it  to  condemn,  and  he  even  defended  her  as  far  as 
he  could  against  her  persecutors,  who  thus  were  made  en- 
emies to  himself  When  he  was  accused  of  holding  doc- 
trines contrary  to  the  true  faith,  and  was  called  upon  to 
make  his  defence  by  a  declaration  of  his  true  sentiments, 
he  published  his  "  Explication  des  Maximes  des  Saints  sur 
la  Vie  Interieure."  Bossuet,  who  was  entirely  opposed  to 
Fenelon  upon  the  doctrine  of  disinterested  love  to  God, 
used  this  book  as  a  weapon  against  him ;  he  accused  Fene- 
lon to  the  king  of  fanaticism.  As  Louis  in  his  heart  had 
never  liked  a  man  whose  whole  life  and  character  were  a 
tacit  reproach  upon  his  own,  he  readily  believed  all  that 
2 


14  MEMOIR   OF   FENELON. 

was  said  against  him.  He  was  forbidden  to  remain  in 
Paris,  and  soon  after,  the  king,  with  his  own  hand,  struck 
out  his  name  as  preceptor  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy. 

The  controversy,  which  was  carried  on  with  great 
warmth  by  Bossuet,  and  supported  on  the  part  of  Fenelon 
with  great  ability,  but  with  unfailing  meekness,  was  finally 
submitted  to  the  Pope  and  his  Cardinals.  The  pontiff 
disapproved  of  some  propositions  which  were  advanced 
by  Fenelon,  and  the  archbishop  acquiesced.  The  Pope 
is  related  to  have  made  a  remark  respecting  the  contro- 
versy, which  could  not  have  been  very  pleasing  to  the  op- 
ponents of  Fenelon.  "  Fenelon,"  he  said,  "  was  in  fault 
for  too  great  love  of  God;  and  his  enemies  were  in  fault 
for  too  little  love  of  their  neighbor."  As  a  specimen  of 
Fenelon's  style  and  manner  of  vindicating  himself  against 
the  writings  of  Bossuet,  we  give  the  following  passage  :  — 

"  How  painful  is  it  to  me,  to  carry  on  against  you  this 
combat  of  words  ;  and  that,  to  defend  myself  against  your 
terrible  charges,  it  should  be  necessary  for  me  to  point 
out  your  misrepresentations  of  my  doctrine.  I  am  the 
writer  so  dear  to  you,  whom  you  always  carry  in  your 
heart ;  yet  you  endeavor  to  plunge  me,  as  another  Moli- 
nos,  into  the  gulf  of  duietism.  Everywhere  you  weep 
over  my  misfortunes,  and  while  you  weep,  you  tear  me  in 
pieces !  What  can  be  thought  of  tears,  to  which  you 
have  recourse  only  for  the  purpose  of  crimination  !  You 
weep  on  my  account,  and  you  suppress  what  is  essential 
in  my  writings.  You  join  together  sentences  in  them 
which  are  wide  asunder.  Your  own  exaggerated  conse- 
quences, formerly  contradicted  in  my  text,  you  hold  out 
as  my  jtriiiciples.  What  is  most  pure  in  my  doctrine, 
becom(!s  hlasplioiny  in  your  representation  of  it.  Believe 
me,  we  have  been  too  long  a  spectacle  to  the  world,  an 


MEMOIR    OF    FENELON.  15 

object  of  derision  to  the  ungodly,  of  compassion  to  the 
good. 

"  That  other  men  should  be  men,  is  not  surprising  ; 
but  that  the  ministers  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  angels  of  the 
church,  should  exhibit  such  scenes  to  the  profane,  to  the 
unbeliever,  calls  for  tears  of  blood.  How  much  more 
fortunate  would  have  been  our  lot,  if,  instead  of  thus  con- 
suming our  time  in  interminable  disputes,  we  had  been 
employed  in  our  dioceses  in  teaching  the  catechism,  in 
instructing  the  villager  to  fear  God,  and  bless  his  holy 
name." 

The  enemies  of  Fenelon  finally  succeeded  in  obtaining 
the  condemnation  of  his  book,  "  Les  Maximes."  It  was 
with  great  reluctance  that  the  Pope  yielded  at  last  to  his 
enemies ;  and  in  the  manner  in  which  he  issued  the  de- 
cree, he  discovers  the  greatest  tenderness  and  respect  for 
Fenelon. 

This  truly  great  man  was  informed  that  his  book  was 
condemned  by  the  Pope,  just  at  the  very  moment  when 
he  was  about  to  ascend  the  pulpit  to  preach.  Deeply  as 
he  must  have  been  affected  by  a  decision  so  unexpected, 
yet  his  religion  held  such  perfect  empire  over  his  mind, 
that  he  meditated  a  few  moments  only,  and  then,  chang- 
ing the  entire  plan  of  his  sermon,  he  delivered  one  upon 
perfect  submission  to  the  authority  of  superiors.  The 
news  of  the  condemnation  of  Fenelon  had  spread  rapidly 
through  the  whole  congregation ;  and  this  admirable 
presence  of  mind,  this  pious  submission,  this  sublime 
tranquillity,  drew  tears  of  tenderness,  of  grief,  of  love, 
and  of  admiration  from  every  eye.  He  immediately  pre- 
pared his  public  declaration  of  submission  to  the  decree 
of  the  Pope.  It  was  simple,  entire,  and  without  any  re- 
serve.    We  extract  from  it  the  following  passages  :  — 


16  3IEM0IK    OF    FEXELOX. 

"  We  shall  find  consolation,  my  dearest  brethren,  in 
what  humbles  us,  provided  that  the  ministry  of  the  word, 
which  we  have  received  for  your  sanctification,  be  not 
enfeebled,  and  that,  notwithstanding  the  humiliation  of 
the  Pastor,  the  flock  shall  increase  in  grace  before  God." 
"  Heaven  forbid  that  we  should  ever  be  spoken  of,  except 
to  remember  that  a  Pastor  thought  it  his  duty  to  be  more 
docile  than  the  meanest  sheep  of  his  flock  ;  and  that  his 
submission  was  unlimited." 

The  submission  of  Fenelon  was  neither  a  respectful 
silence,  nor  a  measure  of  .policy,  or  any  compromise  with 
truth,  but,  as  he  himself  said  to  a  friend,  "  An  inward 
act  of  obedience  rendered  to  God  alone,  according  to  the 
principles  of  Catholicism.  I  regarded,"  says  Fenelon, 
"  the  decision  of  my  superiors  as  an  echo  of  the  Supreme 
Will ;  I  forgot  all  the  passions,  prejudices,  and  disputes 
which  had  preceded  my  condemnation ;  I  heard  God 
speak  to  me  as  he  did  to  Job ;  I  accepted  my  condemna- 
tion in  its  most  extensive  sense."  He  very  justly  dis- 
criminated between  the  meaning  he  intended  to  convey 
in  his  book,  and  the  actual  sense  of  the  text,  of  which 
he  considered  the  Pope  the  infallible  judge.  While  he 
still  solemnly  asserted  that  it  had  never  been  his  intention 
to  advocate  those  errors  for  which  his  book  was  con- 
demned, the  Pope's  condemnation  was  sufficient  to  con- 
vince him  that  these  errors  were  there  expressed.  And 
in  his  answer  to  an  unknown  friend  who  wished  to  i^Tite 
in  defence  of  his  book,  he  would  not  consent  to  have 
even  his  own  personal  attention  vindicated  from  the  errors 
imputed  to  him,  lest  it  should  appear  as  an  indirect  vin- 
dication of  liis  book,  and  a  want  of  sincerity  in  his  sub- 
mission to  the  Pope.  "  In  tlie  name  of  God,"  he  says, 
"  speak  to  me  only  of  God,  and  leave  men  to  judge  of 


MEMOIR    OF    FENELON.  17 

me  as  they  like.     As  to  myself,  I  shall  seek  only  peace 
and  silence." 

Fenelon  seems  not  to  have  regarded  his  banishment  to 
his  diocese  as  any  calamity,  except  from  a  fear  that  it 
might  lessen  his  usefulness  ;  he  loved  the  country  and 
rural  pleasures.  He  was  particularly  fond  of  walking. 
He  writes  to  a  friend,  "  I  amuse  myself,  I  walk,  and  I 
find  myself  peaceful,  in  silence  before  God.  O  !  bliss- 
ful communion  !  in  his  presence  we  are  never  alone  ;  as 
to  men,  we  are  alone  when  we  do  not  wish  to  be  with 
them." 

In  the  course  of  his  walks,  he  would  often  join  the 
peasants,  sit  down  with  them  on  the  grass,  talk  with  them, 
and  console  them.  He  visited  them  in  their  cottages, 
seated  himself  at  table  with  them,  and  partook  of  their 
humble  meals.  By  such  kindness  and  familiarity,  he  won 
their  affections,  and  gained  access  to  their  minds.  As 
they  loved  him  as  a  father  and  friend,  they  delighted  to 
listen  to  his  instructions,  and  to  submit  to  his  guidance. 
Long  after  his  death,  the  old  people  who  had  the  happi- 
ness of  seeing  him  on  these  occasions,  spoke  of  him  with 
the  most  tender  reverence.  "  There,"  they  would  say, 
"  is  the  chair  in  which  our  good  archbishop  used  to  sit  in 
the  midst  of  us ;  we  shall  see  him  no  more,"  and  then 
their  tears  would  flow. 

The  diocese  of  Cambrai  was  often  the  theatre  of  war, 
and  experienced  the  cruel  ravages  of  retreating  and  con- 
quering armies.  But  an  extraordinary  respect  was  paid 
to  Fenelon  by  the  invaders  of  France.  The  English,  the 
Germans,  and  the  Dutch,  rivalled  the  inhabitants  of  Cam- 
brai in  their  veneration  for  the  Archbishop.  All  distinc- 
tions of  religion  and  sect,  all  feelings  of  hatred  and 
jealousy  that  divided  the  nations,  seemed  to  disappear  in 
2* 


18  MEMOIR    OF    FENELON. 

the  presence  of  Fenelon.  Military  escorts  were  offered 
him,  for  his  personal  security  ;  but  these  he  declined,  and 
traversed  the  countries  desolated  by  war,  to  visit  his 
flock,  trusting  in  the  protection  of  God.  In  these  visits, 
his  way  was  marked  by  alms  and  benefactions.  While 
he  was  among  them,  the  people  seemed  to  enjoy  peace  in 
the  midst  of  war. 

He  brought  together  into  his  palace,  the  wretched  in- 
habitants of  the  country,  whom  the  war  had  driven  from 
their  homes,  and  took  care  of  them,  and  fed  them  at  his 
own  table.  Seeing,  one  day,  that  one  of  these  peasants 
ate  nothing,  he  asked  him  the  reason  of  his  abstinence. 
"  Alas  !  my  lord,"  said  the  poor  man,  "  in  making  my 
escape  from  my  cottage,  I  had  not  time  to  bring  off  my 
cow,  which  was  the  support  of  my  family.  The  enemy 
will  drive  her  away,  and  I  shall  never  find  another  so 
good."  Fenelon,  availing  himself  of  his  privilege  of  safe 
conduct,  immediately  set  out,  accompanied  by  a  single 
servant,  and  drove  the  cow  back  himself  to  the  peasant- 

"  This,"  said  Cardinal  Maury,  "  is  perhaps  the  finest 
act  of  Fenelon's  life."  He  adds,  "  Alas  !  for  the  man 
who  reads  it  without  being  affected."  Another  anecdote, 
showing  his  tenderness  to  the  poor,  is  thus  related  of  him. 
A  literary  man,  whose  library  was  destroyed  by  fire,  has 
been  deservedly  admired  for  saying,  "  I  should  have 
profited  but  little  by  my  books,  if  they  had  not  taught  me 
how  to  bear  the  loss  of  them."  The  remark  of  Fenelon, 
who  lost  his  in  a  similar  way,  is  still  more  simple  and 
touching.  "  I  would  much  rather  they  were  burnt  than 
the  cottage  of  a  poor  peasant." 

The  virtues  of  Fenelon  give  his  history  the  air  of 
romance  ;  but  his  name  will  never  die.  Transports  of 
joy  were  heard  at  Cambrai  when  his  ashes  were  discovered, 


MEMOIR    OF    FENELON.  19 

which,  it  was  thought,  had  been  scattered  by  the  tempest 
of  the  Revolution ;  and  to  this  moment  the  Flemings  call 
him  "  the  good  Archbishop." 

The  kindness  and  humanity  of  Fenelon  to  the  sufferers 
in  the  war,  endeared  him  to  the  whole  nation.  His  char- 
ity embraced  the  rich  and  the  poor,  his  friends  and  his 
enemies.  " It  is  impossible,"  says  his  biographer,  "to 
conceive  how  much  he  was  the  idol  of  the  military,  and 
how  Versailles,  in  spite  of  her  stern  master,  resounded 
with  his  name.  His  charity  and  polite  attentions  extended 
equally  to  the  prisoners  of  war,  as  to  his  own  countrymen. 
Virtue  herself  became  more  beautiful  from  Fenelon's 
manner  of  being  virtuous." 

One  of  the  curates  of  his  diocese  complained  to  him 
that  he  was  unable  to  put  a  stop  to  dances  on  the  feast 
days.  "  Mr.  Curate,"  said  Fenelon  to  him,  "  let  us  abstain 
from  amusement  ourselves,  but  let  us  permit  these  poor 
people  to  dance.  Why  prevent  them  from  forgetting  for 
a  moment  their  poverty  and  wretchedness?" 

The  simplicity  of  Fenelon's  character  obtained  for  him 
a  triumph  on  one  occasion,  which  must  have  been  most 
gratifying  to  his  feelings,  if  it  were  only  as  a  testimony 
in  favor  of  the  irresistible  charm  and  power  of  virtue.  His 
enemies  (for  to  the  reproach  of  human  nature,  Fenelon  had 
his  enemies)  were  mean  enough  to  practise  the  shameful 
artifice,  of  placing  about  him  an  ecclesiastic  of  high  birth, 
whom  he  considered  only  as  his  grand  vicar,  but  who  was 
to  act  as  a  spy  upon  him.  This  man,  who  had  consented 
to  undertake  so  base  an  office,  had,  however,  the  mag- 
nanimity to  punish  himself  for  it.  Subdued  by  the  purity 
and  gentleness  of  spirit  that  he  witnessed  in  Fenelon,  he 
threw  himself  at  his  feet,  confessed  the  unworthy  part  he 
had  been  led  to  act,  and  withdrew  from  the  world,  to  con- 
ceal, in  retirement,  his  grief  and  his  shame. 


20  MEMOIR   OF    FENELON. 

Fenelon,  so  indulgent  to  others,  required  no  indulgence 
to  be  exercised  to  himself.  Not  only  was  he  willing  to 
have  his  failings  treated  with  severity,  he  was  even  grate- 
ful for  it. 

Father  Seraphin,  a  Capuchin  missionary,  of  more  zeal 
than  eloquence,  preached  at  Versailles  before  Louis  the 
Fourteenth.  The  Abbe  Fenelon,  at  that  time  the  king's 
chaplain,  being  present,  fell  asleep.  Father  Seraphin 
perceived  it,  and  stopping  iri  the  midst  of  his  discourse, 
"  Wake  that  Abbe,"  said  he,  "  who  is  asleep,  and  who 
seems  to  be  present  here  only  to  pay  his  court  to  the 
king."  Fenelon  was  fond  of  relating  this  anecdote. 
With  the  truest  satisfaction,  he  praised  the  preacher,  who 
was  not  deterred  from  exercising  such  apostolic  liberty, 
and  the  king  who  approved  of  it  by  his  silence. 

So  tender  and  so  delicate,  if  the  expression  may  be 
allowed,  was  Fenelon's  love  of  virtue,  that  he  considered 
nothing  as  innocent  that  could  wound  it  in  the  slightest 
degree.  He  censured  Moliere  for  having  represented  it  in 
"  The  Misanthrope,"  with  an  austerity  that  exposed  it  to 
odium  and  ridicule.  The  criticism  may  not  be  just,  but 
we  must  respect  the  feeling  which  dictated  it,  and  more 
especially  as  the  gentle  and  indulgent  virtue  of  Fenelon 
was  far  from  bearing  any  resemblance  to  the  savage  and 
inflexible  virtue  of  "  The  Misanthrope."  On  the  con- 
trary, Fenelon  relished  highly  "  The  Hypocrite,"  by  the 
same  author ;  for  the  more  he  loved  genuine  virtue,  the 
more  he  detested  the  aftectation  of  it  (which  he  com- 
plained of  meeting  so  often  at  Versailles,)  and  the  more 
he  commended  those  who  endeavored  to  expose  it.  He 
did  not,  like  Baillct,  make  it  a  crime  in  Moliere,  to  have 
usurped  the  right  of  the  clergy  to  reprove  hypocrites. 
Fenelon  was  persuaded  that  they  who  complain  of  en- 


MEMOIR   OF    FENELON.  21 

croachments  on  this  right,  which,  after  all,  is  only  the 
right  of  every  good  man,  are  commonly  slow  to  make  use 
of  it  themselves,  and  are  even  afraid  to  have  others  exer- 
cise it  for  them.  He  dared  to  blame  Bourdaloue,  whose 
talents  and  virtues  he  otherwise  respected,  for  having  at- 
tacked, in  one  of  his  sermons,  that  excellent  comedy,  where 
the  contrast  between  true  and  false  piety  is  so  well  paint- 
ed. "  Bourdaloue,"  said  he,  with  his  usual  candor,  "  is 
not  a  hypocrite ;  but  his  enemies  will  say  that  he  is  a 
Jesuit." 

Fenelon  showed  his  magnanimity  as  well  as  his  chari- 
ty during  the  war.  He  was  then  an  exile  in  his  own  dio- 
cese, and  in  disgrace  with  the  king ;  but  the  enemy  had 
been  his  protectors  and  friends,  and  while  all  France  was 
suffering  from  famine,  his  magazines  were  filled  with  grain. 
He  distributed  it  among  the  soldiers  of  his  unjust  master, 
and  refused  to  receive  any  pay  for  it,  saying,  "  The  king 
owes  me  nothing,  and  in  times  of  calamity  it  is  my  duty, 
as  a  citizen  and  a  bishop,  to  give  back  to  the  state  what  I 
have  received  from  it."  It  was  thus  he  avenged  himself 
for  his  disgrace. 

His  mind,  dead  to  vanity,  was  in  conversation  entirely 
given  up  to  the  person  with  whom  he  conversed.  Men 
of  every  profession,  proficients  in  every  branch  of  knowl- 
edge, were  at  ease  in  his  company.  He  directed  every 
one  first  to  the  subject  he  best  understood,  and  then  he 
disappeared  at  once,  thus  giving  them  an  opportunity  to 
produce,  out  of  their  own  stock,  the  materials  they  were 
most  able  to  furnish.  Thus  every  one  parted  from  him 
well  pleased  with  himself. 

The  different  writings  in  philosophy,  theology  and 
belles-lettres,  that  came  from  the  pen  of  Fenelon,  have 
made  his  name  immortal.     The  most  powerful  charm  of 


22  MEBIOIR    OF    FENELON. 

his  writings,  is  that  feeling  of  quiet  and  tranquillity  which 
they  excite  in  the  reader.  It  is  a  friend,  who  approaches 
you  and  pours  his  soul  into  yours.  You  feel  that  you  are 
holding  an  intimate  communion  with  a  pure  and  highly 
gifted  mind.  He  moderates,  ^and  suspends,  at  least  for  a 
while,  your  worldly  cares  and  your  sorrows ;  you  enter 
for  a  time  into  that  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  and  self-oblivion 
which  seems  to  be  the  key-note  of  all  his  writings.  Your 
whole  heart  seems  to  expand  with  the  christian  love  that 
inspired  him.  We  are  ready  to  forgive  human  nature  so 
many  men  who  make  us  hate  it,  on  account  of  Fenelon, 
who  makes  us  love  it. 

In  the  authors  whom  he  quotes  in  his  Dialogue  upon 
Eloquence  and  Letter  to  the  French  Academy,  and  cites 
as  models,  those  touches  of  feeling  which  go  to  the  soul, 
are  those  upon  which  he  loves  to  repose.  He  there  seems, 
if  we  may  so  speak,  to  breathe  sweetly  his  native  air,  and 
to  find  himself  in  the  midst  of  what  is  most  dear  to  him. 
His  sermons  were  always  the  outpourings  of  his  heart ;  it 
was  not  his  object  to  be  brilliant ;  he  retired  to  his  orato- 
ry, and  there  in  the  presence  of  God,  he  called  up  to  his 
mind  all  those  pure  conceptions  and  affectionate  senti- 
ments with  which  his  discourses  were  filled.  Like  Moses, 
the  friend  of  God,  he  went  to  the  holy  mountain,  and  re- 
turned to  the  people  to  communicate  to  them  what  he  had 
learned  iu  that  ineffable  communion.  He  would  begin 
by  instructing  bis  flock  njion  the  reasons  of  our  faith,  and 
of  our  liojie,  and  then  hasten  to  inculcate  that  charity 
which  produces  and  perfects  all  the  virtues. 

Wlien  the  question  was  discussed  before  the  Queen  of 
Poland,  which  of  the  two  champions,  Bossuet  or  Fenelon, 
had  rendered  the  greatest  services  to  religion,  "  The  one," 
said  that  Princess,  "  has  proved  its  truth,  the  other  has 


MEMOIR    OF    FEx\ELON.  23 

made  it  to  be  loved."  Although  the  spirit  of  love  is  man- 
ifest in  all  his  writings,  it  is  most  deeply  impressed  on 
those  that  were  composed  for  his  pupil.  He  seems,  in 
writing  them,  to  have  ever  repeated  to  himself,  "  What  I 
am  going  to  say  to  this  child,  will  be  the  occasion  of  hap- 
piness or  misery  to  twenty  millions  of  people."  He  said, 
that,  not  having  been  able  to  procure  for  the  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy the  privilege  of  actually  travelling  himself,  he  had 
made  him  travel  over  the  world  with  Mentor  and  Telem- 
achus;  "If  he  ever  travel,"  added  he,  "I  should  wish 
that  it  might  be  without  an  equipage.  The  less  retinue 
he  had,  the  easier  would  truth  be  able  to  approach  him. 
He  would  be  able  to  see  good  and  evil,  so  as  to  adopt  the 
one,  and  avoid  the  other,  much  better  abroad  than  at 
home ;  and,  delivered  for  a  while  from  the  cares  and  anx- 
ieties of  being  a  prince,'  he  would  taste  the  pleasure  of 
being  a  man." 

Let  us  not  forget  the  most  interesting  fact  relative  to 
the  education  of  this  Prince,  and  which  bound  him  by  the 
strongest  tie  of  affection  to  his  instructer.  When  Fene- 
lon  had  committed  any  fault,  even  the  slightest,  in  the  ex- 
ecution of  this  trust,  he  never  failed  to  accuse  himself  of 
it  to  his  pupil.  What  an  authority,  founded  in  love  and 
confidence,  must  he  have  acquired  over  him  by  this  in- 
genuous frankness !  What  a  lesson  of  uprightness  must 
it  have  taught  him  ;  —  openness  and  ingenuousness  even 
at  the  expense  of  his  self-love,  indulgence  towards  the 
faults  of  others,  readiness  to  confess  his  own,  the  courage 
even  to  accuse  himself,  the  noble  ambition  of  knowing, 
and  the  still  more  noble  ambition  of  conquering  himself 
"  If  you  wish,"  said  a  philosopher,  "  to  have  your  son 
listen  to  stern,  unbending  truth,  begin  by  speaking  it  to 
him  when  it  is  against  yourself" 


24  MEMOIR    OF    FENELON. 

The  enemies  of  Fenelon  have  insinuated,  most  falsely, 
that  he  took  side  in  the  controversy  against  Jansenism, 
only  because  the  Cardinal  de  Noailles  had  declared  him- 
self against  Quietism.  But  his  noble  and  ingenuous  soul 
was  incapable  of  such  a  motive.  The  sweetness  of  his 
disposition,  and  the  idea  which  he  had  formed  to  himself 
of  the  goodness  of  God,  made  him  averse  to  the  doctrine 
of  Quesnel,  which  he  considered  as  leading  to  despair. 
He  consulted  his  own  heart  for  arguments  against  it. 
"  God,"  said  he,  "  is  to  them  only  a  terrible  being ;  to 
me  he  is  a  being  good  and  just.  I  cannot  consent  to 
make  him  a  tyrant  who  binds  us  with  fetters,  and  then 
commands  us  to  walk,  and  punishes  us  if  we  do  not." 
But  in  proscribing  principles,  which  seemed  to  him  too 
harsh,  and  the  consequences  of  which  were  disavowed  by 
those  who  held  them,  he  would  not  permit  them  to  be 
persecuted.  "Let  us  be  to  them,"  said  he,  "  what  they 
are  unwilling  that  God  should  be  to  man,  full  of  compas- 
sion and  indulgence."  He  was  told  that  the  Jansenists 
were  his  declared  enemies,  and  that  they  left  nothing  un- 
done to  bring  him  and  his  doctrine  into  discredit.  "  That 
is  one  farther  reason"  said  he,  "  for  me  to  suffer  and  for- 
give them." 

Thus  passed  Fenelon's  life  till  the  melancholy  death  of 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  in  1712.  His  death  was  a  sad 
blight  upon  the  fairest  hopes  of  the  nation.  Fenelon's 
highest  wishes  seemed  to  be  realized  in  him  ;  the  eyes 
and  hopes  of  all  were  upon  him.  His  veneration  and 
love  for  his  preceptor  had  continued,  and  when  he  was 
allowed,  he  did  not  fail  to  express  it.  When  Fenelon 
heard  the  afllicting  intelligence  of  his  death,  he  exclaim- 
ed, "  All  my  tics  arc  broken ;  nothing  now  remains  to 
bind   me   to   the   earth."     Shortly  after,  the  Duke   de 


MEMOIR    OF    FENELON.  25 

Chevreuse,  his  intimate  friend,  died,  and  this  was  also  a 
great  sorrow  to  him.  He  writes  thus  to  a  friend,  when 
he  was  deeply  oppressed  by  these  calamities.  "Real 
friends  are  our  greatest  joy  and  our  greatest  sorrow.  It 
were  almost  to  be  w  ished  that  all  true  and  faithful  friends 
should  expire  on  the  same  day."  All  his  letters  written 
during  this  period,  show  how  deeply  he  suffered. 

Fenelon  had  one  more  severe  trial  to  endure.  The 
Duke  de  Beauvilliers,  to  whom  he  was  tenderly  attached, 
and  who,  being  governor  to  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  was 
not  permitted  to  see  him  after  his  banishment,  died  in 
1714.  Fenelon  survived  him  but  four  months.  The 
death  of  the  Duke  de  Beauvilliers  was  the  severe  blow 
that  finally  subdued  the  tender  heart  of  Fenelon.  His 
frame  was  feeble;  a  severe  shock,  that  he  received  from 
the  upsetting  of  his  carriage,  induced  a  fever,  and  he  died 
on  the  first  of  January,  1715.  In  the  last  letter  he  wrote 
with  his  own  hand,  which  was  to  the  Duchess  of  Beau- 
villiers, he  says  to  her,  "  We  shall  soon  find  again  that 
which  we  have  not  lost ;  we  daily  approach  it  with  rapid 
strides ;  yet  a  little  while  and  there  will  be  no  more 
cause  for  tears."  He  was  taken  sick  and  died  three  days 
after,  aged  sixty-five.  In  his  last  sickness,  he  displayed 
the  most  admirable  fortitude  and  submission.  There  Wiis 
the  same  sweetness  of  temper,  composure  of  mind,  lo\  e 
for  his  fellow-creatures,  and  confidence  in  God,  which 
became  the  Christian  and  the  friend  of  God  and  man, 
and  which  had  distinguished  his  whole  life. 

The  death  of  Fenelon  was  deeply  lamented  by  all  tlie 
inhabitants  of  the  Low  Countries.  So  extensive  had  been 
his  charities,  and  yet  so  well  balanced  his  worldly  affairs, 
that  he  died  without  money  and  without  a  debt.  Tiie 
following  portrait  of  this  celebrated  prelate,  is  given  by 
3 


2G  MEMOIR    OF    FENELON. 

the  Duke  de  St.  Simon  in  his  Memoirs.  "  He  was  a  tfill, 
lean,  well  made  man,  with  a  large  nose,  eyes  full  of  fire 
and  intelligence  ;  a  physiognomy  resembling  none  which 
I  have  elsewhere  seen,  and  which  could  not  be  forgotten 
after  it  had  been  once  beheld.  There  was  such  a  sub- 
lime simplicity  in  his  appearance,  that  it  required  an 
eftbrt  to  cease  to  look  at  him.  His  manners  correspond- 
ed to  his  face  and  person.  They  were  marked  with  that 
ease  which  makes  others  easy ;  there  was  an  inexpressi- 
ble air  of  good  taste  and  refinement  in  them.  He  pos- 
sessed a  natural  eloquence,  a  ready,  clear,  and  agreeable 
elocution,  and  a  power  of  making  himself  understood  up- 
on the  most  perplexed  and  abstract  subjects.  With  all 
this,  he  never  wished  to  appear  wiser  or  wittier  than 
those  with  whom  he  conversed,  but  descended  to  every 
one's  level  with  a  manner  so  free  and  so  captivating,  that 
it  was  scarcely  possible  to  leave  him." 

When  we  speak  of  the  death  of  Fenelon,  we  realize 
the  truth  of  what  we  all  acknowledge,  though  few  feel, 
that  the  good  man  never  dies ;  that,  to  use  the  words  of 
one  of  our  eloquent  divines,  "  death  was  but  a  circum- 
stance in  his  being."  We  may  say,  as  we  read  his 
writings,  that  we  are  conscious  of  his  immortality  :  he  is 
with  us ;  his  spirit  is  around  us ;  it  enters  into  and  takes 
possession  of  our  souls.  He  is  at  this  time,  as  he  was 
when  living  in  his  diocese,  the  fiimiliar  friend  of  the 
poor  and  the  sorrowful,  the  bold  reprover  of  vice,  and  the 
gentle  guide  of  the  wanderer  ;  he  still  says  to  all,  in  the 
words  of  his  Divine  Master,  "  Come  to  me,  all  ye  that 
are  heavy  laden,  and  T  will  give  you  rest." 

In  the  houses  of  the  unh-arued,  where  the  names  of 
Louis  the  Fourteenth  -.md  Bossuet  have  never  entered, 
except  as  connected  with  Fenclon's,  where  not  a  word  of 


BIEMOIR    OF    FENELON.  27 

liis  native  tongue  would  be  understood,  his  spirit  has 
entered  as  a  minister  of  love  and  wisdom,  and  a  well-worn 
translation  of  his  Reflections,  with  a  short  Memoir  of  his 
life,  is  laid  upon  the  precious  word  of  God.  What  has 
thus  immortalized  Fenelon  ?  For  wliat  is  he  thus  cher- 
ished in  our  hearts?  Is  it  his  learning?  his  celebrity? 
his  eloquence  ?  No.  It  is  the  spirit  of  christian  love, 
the  spirit  of  the  Saviour  of  mankind  that  is  poured  forth 
frcmi  all  his  writings;  of  that  love  that  conquers  self,  that 
binds  us  to  our  neighbor,  that  raises  us  to  God.  This  is 
Fenelon's  power,  it  is  this  that  touches  our  souls.  We 
feel  that  he  has  entered  into  the  fall  meaning  of  that 
sublime  passage  in  St.  John,  and  made  it  the  motto  of  his 
life  :  "  Beloved,  let  us  love  one  another  ;  for  love  is  of 
God ;  and  every  one  that  loveth,  is  born  of  God,  and 
knoweth  God.  He  that  loveth  not,  knoweth  not  God  ; 
for  God  is  love." 


SELECTIONS  FROM  FENELON. 


UPON    THE    PROOFS     OF    THE     EXISTENCE     OF    GOD,     DRAWN 
FROM  A  VIEW  OF  NATURE,  AND  OF  THE  MIND  OF  MAN. 

I  CANNOT  open  my  eyes  without  admiring  the 
skill  that  evei-ything  in  nature  displays.  A  single 
glance  enables  me  to  perceive  the  hand  that  has 
made  all  things.  Men  accustomed  to  meditate  upon 
abstract  truths,  and  recur  to  first  principles,  recog- 
nise the  Divinity  by  the  idea  of  him  they  find  in 
their  minds.  But  the  more  direct  this  road  is,  the 
more  is  it  untrodden  and  neglected  by  common 
men,  who  follow  their  own  imagination.  It  is  so 
simple  a  demonstration,  that  from  this  very  cause^ 
it  escapes  those  minds  that  are  incapable  of  a  pure- 
ly intellectual  operation.  And  the  more  perfect  this 
way  of  discovering  the  Supreme  Being  is,  the  fewer 
are  the  mnids  that  can  folloAV  it.  But  there  is  an- 
other method  less  perfect,  and  which  is  adapted  to 


30  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

the  capacity  of  all.  Those  who  exercise  their  rea- 
son the  least,  those  who  are  the  most  affected  by 
their  senses,  may  at  a  single  glance  discover  Him 
who  is  represented  in  all  his  works.  The  wisdom 
and  power  that  God  has  manifested  in  every  thing 
that  he  has  made,  reflects  the  name,  as  in  a  mirror, 
of  him,  whom  they  have  not  been  able  to  discover 
in  their  own  minds.  This  is  a  popular  philosophy, 
addressed  to  the  senses,  which  every  one  without 
prejudice  or  passion  is  capable  of  acquiring. 

A  man  whose  whole  heart  is  engaged  in  some 
grand  concern,  might  pass  many  days  in  a  room  at- 
tending to  his  affairs,  without  seeing  either  the  pro- 
portions of  the  room,  the  ornaments  on  the  chim- 
ney, or  the  j^ictures  that  surrounded  him.  All  these 
objects  would  be  before  his  eyes,  but  he  would  not 
see  them,  and  they  would  make  no  impression  up- 
on him.  Thus  it  is  that  men  live.  Everything 
presents  God  to  them,  but  they  do  not  see  him. 
He  was  in  the  world,  and  the  world  was  made  by 
him ;  and  nevertheless  the  world  has  not  known 
him.  They  pass  their  lives  without  perceiviug 
this  representation  of  the  Deity  ;  so  completely  do 
the  fascinations  of  life  obscure  their  vision. 

Saint  Augustin  says  that  the  wonders  of  the  uni- 
verse are  lowered  in  our  estimation  by  their  repeti- 
tion. Cicero  says  the  same  thing.  ''  Forced  to 
witness  the  same  things  every  day,  the  mind  as 
well  as  the  eye  is  accustomed  to  them.  It  does  not 
admire,  or  take  any  pains,  to  discover,  the  cause  of 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF  GOD. 


31 


events  that  it  always  observes  to  take  place  in  just 
the  same  way ;  as  if  it  were  the  novelty  rather 
than  the  grandeur  of  a  thing  that  should  lead  us 
to  tliis  investigation." 

But  all  nature  shows  the  infinite  skill  of  its  Au- 
thor. I  maintain  that  accident,  that  is  to  say,  a 
blind  and  fortuitous  succession  of  events,  could 
never  have  produced  all  that  we  see.  It  is  well  to 
adduce  here  one  of  the  celebrated  comparisons  of 
the  ancients. 

Who  would  believe  that  the  Iliad  of  Homer  was 
not  composed  by  the  effort  of  a  great  poet  ;  but 
that  the  characters  of  the  alphabet  being  thrown 
confusedly  together,  an  accidental  stroke  had  placed 
all  the  letters  precisely  in  such  relative  situations, 
as  to  produce  verses  so  full  of  harmony  and  vari- 
ety ;  painting  each  object  with  all  that  was  most 
noble,  most  graceful,  and  most  touching  in  its  fea- 
tures ;  in  fine,  making  each  person  speak  in  charac- 
ter, and  with  such  spirit  and  nature  ?  Let  any 
one  reason  with  as  much  subtilty  as  he  may,  he 
would  persuade  no  man  in  his  senses  that  the  Iliad 
had  no  author  but  accident.  Why  then  should  a 
man,  possessing  his  reason,  believe  with  regard  to 
the  universe,  a  work  unquestionably  more  wonder- 
ful than  the  Iliad,  what  his  good  sense  will  not 
allow  him  to  believe  of  this  poem  ?  But  let  us 
take  another  comparison,  which  is  from  Gregory 
Nazianzen. 

If  we  heard  in  a  room  behind  a  curtain,  a  sweet 


32  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

and  harmonious  instrument,  could  we  believe  that 
accident  produced  it  ?  Who  would  doubt  serious- 
ly whether  some  skilful  hand  did  not  touch  it? 

Were  any  one  to  find  in  a  desert  island,  a  beauti- 
ful statue  of  marble,  he  would  say.  Surely  men 
have  been  here.  I  recognise  the  hand  of  the 
sculptor ;  I  admire  the  delicacy  with  which  he 
has  proportioned  the  body,  making  it  instinct  with 
beauty,  grace,  majesty,  tenderness,  and  life.  What 
would  this  man  reply,  if  any  one  were  to  say  to 
him,  No,  a  sculptor  did  not  make  this  statue.  It 
is  made,  it  is  true,  in  the  most  exquisite  taste,  and 
according  to  the  most  perfect  rules  of  symmetry ; 
but  it  is  accident  that  has  produced  it.  Among  all 
the  pieces  of  marble,  one  has  happened  to  take  this 
form  of  itself.  The  rains  and  the  wind  detached 
it  from  the  mountain ;  a  violent  storm  placed  it 
upright  upon  this  pedestal,  that  was  already  pre- 
pared and  placed  here  of  itself.  It  is  an  Apollo  as 
perfect  as  that  of  Belvidere  ;  it  is  a  Venus  equal  to 
that  of  the  Medicis ;  it  is  a  Hercules  which  re- 
sembles that  of  Farnese.  You  may  believe,  it  is 
true,  that  this  figure  walks,  that  it  lives,  that  it 
thinks,  that  it  is  going  to  speak.  But  it  owes 
nothing  to  art,  it  is  only  a  blind  stroke  of  chance 
that  has  formed  it  so  well,  and  placed  it  here. 

What  should  we  say  to  a  man  who  should  pride 
himself  upon  superior  knowledge  and  philosophy, 
and  who,  entering  a  house,  should  maintain  that  it 
was  made  by  chance,   and  that  art  and  industry 


ON    THE    KXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  33 

had  done  nothing  to  render  it  a  commodious  habi- 
tation for  men  ;  and  wlio  should  give  as  a  reason, 
that  there  were  caverns  that  resembled  it,  which 
tlie  art  of  man  had  not  made  ? 

We  should  sliow  to  him  who  reasoned  in  this 
way,  all  the  dilferent  parts  of  the  house  and  their 
uses.  It  must  be,  we  should  say  to  this  philoso- 
pher, that  this  work  has  been  conducted  by  some 
able  architect ;  for  all  parts  of  it  are  agreeable, 
pleasing  to  the  eye,  well  proportioned,  convenient ; 
he  must  also  have  employed  excellent  workmen. 
Not  at  all,  this  philosopher  would  say  ;  you  are 
ingenious  in  self-deception.  It  is  true  that  the 
house  is  pleasant,  well  proportioned,  and  commo- 
dious ,  but  it  is  self-formed,  with  all  its  ingenious 
contrivances.  Chance  has  collected  and  arranged 
these  stones  in  this  beautiful  order.  It  has  raised 
these  walls,  pierced  these  windows,  placed  the 
stair-cases.  Do  not  believe  that  the  hand  of  man 
had  any  thing  to  do  with  it.  Men  have  only  occu- 
pied it  when  they  found  it  finished.  They  imag- 
ine it  is  made  for  them,  because  they  find  in  it 
things  that  they  can  turn  to  their  accommodation  ; 
but  all  that  they  attribute  to  the  design  of  an  archi- 
tect, is  only  the  effect  of  their  inventions  after- 
wards. This  house,  so  regular  and  so  well  arrang- 
ed, was  made  just  as  caverns  are  made  ;  and  find- 
ing it  convenient,  they  have  occupied  it  just  as  they 
would  a  cave  that  they  should  happen  to  find  under 
a  rock,  during  a  storm,  in  the  midst  of  a  desert. 


34 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 


What  would  you  think  of  this  whimsical  philos- 
opher, if  he  were  to  persist  in  it  seriously,  that 
this  house  did  not  discover  any  art  ?  When  we 
read  the  fable  of  Amphion,  who  by  a  miraculous 
harmony  raised  the  stones  one  upon  another,  in 
order  and  symmetry,  to  form  the  walls  of  Thebes, 
we  smile  at  the  fiction  of  the  poet ;  but  this  fiction 
is  not  so  incredible  as  that  which  this  philosopher 
maintains.  But  why  do  we  smile  less  at  hearing 
that  the  world  is  a  work  of  chance,  than  we  do 
that  this  fabulous  house  is.  We  do  not  compare 
the  world  to  the  cavern  which  we  suppose  made 
by  accident,  but  we  may  to  a  house  in  which  is 
displayed  the  most  perfect  architecture.  The 
smallest  animal  has  a  construction  that  is  more  ad- 
mirable than  that  of  the  most  perfect  house. 

A  traveller  entering  Sa  de,  which  is  the  place 
that  was  once  ancient  Thebes,  with  its  hundred 
gates,  and  which  is  now  a  desert,  would  find  there 
columns,  pyramids,  obelisks,  and  inscriptions  in 
unknown  characters.  Would  he  say.  Men  have 
never  inhabited  this  place ;  the  hand  of  man  has 
never  been  employed  here ;  it  is  chance  that  has 
formed  these  columns,  and  placed  them  upon  their 
pedestals,  and  crowned  them  with  capitals  in  such 
beautiful  proportions  ;  it  is  chance  that  has  hewn 
these  obelisks  out  of  single  stones,  and  that  has 
engraved  upon  them  all  these  hieroglyphics? 
Would  he  not,  on  the  contrary,  say  with  all  the 
certainty  of  which  the  mind  of  man  is  capable, 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  0<J 

These  magnificent  ruins  are  the  remains  of  a  majes- 
tic architecture  that  flourished  in  ancient  Egypt  ? 

This  is  Avhat  our  reason  would  pronounce  at  the 
first  glance.  It  is  the  same  thing  when  we  first 
contemplate  the  universe.  People  perplex  them- 
selves with  sophistry,  and  obscure  their  view  of 
the  simplest  truths.  But  a  glance  is  sufficient  ; 
such  a  work  as  this  world,  could  not  have  been 
made  by  chance. 

The  bones,  the  tendons,  the  veins,  the  arteries, 
the  nerves,  the  muscles,  which  compose  the  body 
of  a  single  man,  display  more  art  and  proportion 
than  all  the  architecture  of  the  ancient  Greeks  and 
Egyptians.  The  eye  of  the  meanest  animal 
surpasses  the  skill  of  all  the  artisans  in  the  world. 

But  let  us,  before  we  proceed  to  the  details  of 
nature,  fix  our  attention  for  a  while  upon  the  gen- 
eral structure  of  the  universe.  Cast  your  eyes 
upon  the  earth  that  supports  us  ;  raise  them  then 
to  this  immense  vault  of  the  heavens  that  sur- 
rounds us ;  these  fathomless  abysses  of  air  and 
water,  and  these  countless  stars  that  give  us  light. 
Who  is  it  that  has  suspended  this  globe  of  earth  ? 
who  has  laid  its  foundations  ?  If  it  were  harder, 
its  bosom  could  not  be  laid  open  by  man  for  cul- 
tivation ;  if  it  were  less  firm,  it  could  not  support 
the  weight  of  his  footsteps.  From  it  proceed  the 
most  precious  things  ;  this  earth,  so  mean  and 
unformed,  is  transformed  into  thousands  of  beauti- 
ful objects,  that  delight  our  eyes  ;  in  the  course  of 


36  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

one  year,  it  becomes  branches,  buds,  leaves,  flow- 
ers, fruits,  and  seeds  ;  thus  renewing  its  bountiful 
favors  to  man.  Nothing  exhausts  it.  After  yield- 
ing for  so  many  ages  its  treasures,  it  experiences  no 
decay,  it  does  not  grow  old,  it  still  pours  forth 
riches  from  its  bosom.  Generations  of  men  have 
grown  old  and  passed  away,  while  every  spring 
the  earth  has  renewed  its  youth.  If  it  were  culti- 
vated, it  would  nourish  a  hundred  fold  more  than 
it  now  does. 

The  inequalities  of  the  earth  add  to  its  beauty 
and  utility.  "  The  mountains  have  risen,  and  the 
valleys  descended,  in  the  places  where  the  Lord 
has  appointed."  In  the  deep  valleys  grows  the 
fresh  herbage  for  cattle.  Rich  harvests  wave  in 
the  champaign  country.  Here,  ranges  of  little 
hills  rise  like  an  amphitheatre,  and  are  crowned 
with  vineyards  and  fruit  trees ;  there,  high  moun- 
tains lift  their  snow-crowned  heads  among  the 
clouds.  The  torrents  that  pour  from  their  sides, 
are  the  sources  of  the  rivers.  The  rocks,  marking 
their  steep  heights,  support  the  earth  of  the  moun- 
tains, just  as  the  bones  of  the  human  body  support 
the  flesh.  Tiiis  variety  makes  the  charm  of  rural 
scenery,  while  it  is  also  the  means  of  satisfying  all 
the  different  wants  of  men. 

Everything  tliat  the  earth  produces,  is  decom- 
posed and  returns  again  to  its  bosom,  and  becomes 
the  germ  of  a  new  production.  Everything  that 
springs  from  it  returns  to  it,  and  nothing   is  lost. 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  37 

All  the  seeds  that  we  sow  in  it,  return  ninlliplicd 
to  us.  It  produces  stone  and  marble,  of  which  we 
make  our  superb  edifices.  It  teems  with  minerals, 
precious  or  useful  to  man.  Look  at  the  plants 
that  spring  from  it.  Their  species  and  their  vir- 
tues are  innumerable.  Contemplate  these  vast 
forests,  as  ancient  as  the  world  ;  those  trees  whose 
roots  strike  into  the  earth,  as  their  branches  spread 
out  towards  the  heavens.  T'heir  roots  support 
them  against  the  winds,  and  are  like  subterranean 
pipes,  whose  office  is  to  collect  the  nourishment 
necessary  for  the  support  of  the  stem  ;  the  stem  is 
covered  with  a  thick  bark,  which  protects  the 
tender  wood  from  the  air  ;  the  branches  distribute, 
in  different  canals,  the  sap  which  the  roots  have 
collected  in  the  trunk.  In  summer,  they  protect 
us  with  their  shade  from  the  rays  of  the  sun;  in 
winter,  they  feed  the  flame  that  keeps  us  warm. 
Their  wood  is  not  only  useful  for  fuel,  but  it  is  of 
a  substance,  although  solid  and  durable,  to  which 
the  hand  of  man  can  give  every  form  that  he 
pleases,  for  the  purposes  of  architecture  and  navi- 
gation. Fruit  trees,  as  they  bow  their  brandies 
towards  the  earth,  seem  to  invite  us  to  receive 
their  treasures.  The  feeblest  plant  contains  within 
itself  the  germ  of  all  that  we  admire  in  the  grand- 
est tree.  The  earth,  that  does  not  change  itself, 
produces  all  these  changes  in  its  offspring. 

Let  us  notice  what  we  call  water;  it  is  a  litpiid, 
clear,  and  transparent  body.     Now  it  escapes  from 
4 


38 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 


our  grasp,  and  now  it  takes  the  form  of  whatever 
surrounds  it,  having  none  of  its  own.  If  the  water 
were  a  httle  more  rarefied,  it  would  become  a  spe- 
cies of  air  ;  the  whole  face  of  nature  would  be  dry 
and  sterile.  He  who  has  given  us  this  fluid  body, 
has  distributed  it  with  care  through  the  earth. 
The  waters  flow  from  the  mountains.  They 
assemble  in  streams  in  the  valleys,  and  they  flow 
on  in  rivers,  winding  their  way  through  the  open 
country,  that  they  may  more  effectually  water  it. 
At  last  they  empty  themselves  into  the  sea,  to  feed 
this  centre  of  the  commerce  of  nations.  This 
ocean,  that  seems  an  eternal  separation  of  countries, 
is,  on  the  contrary,  the  great  rendezvous  of  all  na- 
tions. It  is  over  this  pathless  way,  across  this 
profound  abyss,  that  the  old  world  has  put  forth 
its  hand  to  the  new,  and  that  the  new  supplies  the 
old  with  its  treasures. 

The  waters  circulate  through  the  earth,  as  the 
blood  does  through  the  human  body.  Besides  this 
perpetual  circulation,  there  is  the  ebbing  and  flow- 
ing of  the  sea.  We  need  not  know  the  cause  of 
this  mysterious  effect.  This  we  are  certain  of 
only,  that  the  sea  goes  and  returns  to  the  same 
places  at  certain  hours.  Who  has  commanded  it 
to  ebb  and  flow  with  such  regularity  ?  A  little 
more  or  a  little  less  motion  in  the  waters  would  de- 
range all  nature.  Who  is  it  that  controls  this  im- 
mense body,  with  such  irresistible  power?  Who  is 
it  that  always  avoids  the  too  much  and  the  too  little  ? 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  39 

what  unerring  finger  has  marked  the  boundaries 
for  the  sea,  that  through  countless  ages  it  has  re- 
spected, and  has  said  to  it,  "Here  shall  thy  proud 
waves  be  stayed  ?" 

If  I  look  up  to  the  heavens,  I  perceive  clouds 
flying  as  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind  ;  bodies  of 
water  suspended  over  our  heads,  to  temper  the  air 
and  water  the  thirsty  earth.  If  they  were  to  fall 
all  at  once,  they  would  overwhelm  and  destroy 
everything  in  the  place  where  they  fell.  What 
hand  suspends  them  in  their  reservoirs,  and  bids 
them  fall  drap  by  drop  as  from  a  watering-pot  ? 

We  have  considered  the  waters  ;  let  us  notice 
other  bodies  of  still  greater  extent.  The  air  is  so 
subtile,  so  transparent,  that  the  stars  at  an  almost 
infinite  distance  pierce  through  it  with  their  light. 
We  live  immersed  in  the  abysses  of  air,  as  fishes 
do  in  the  depths  of  the  waters.  As  the  waters,  if 
they  were  rarefied,  would  become  a  species  of  air, 
that  would  destroy  them  ;  so  the  air  would  destroy 
us,  if  it  were  more  dense  and  humid.  Who  is  it 
that  has  composed  the  air  so  exactly  for  our  respi- 
ration ?  What  power  unseen  excites,  and  stills,  so 
suddenly  the  tempests  of  this  vast  fluid  body  ? 
From  what  store-house  are  the  winds  drawn  that 
purify  the  air,  that  temper  the  seasons,  and  that 
change  the  face  of  the  heavens  in  an  instant ; 
wafting  the  clouds  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  from 
one  edge  of  the  horizon  to  the    other  ? 

Let  us  fix  our  attention  upon   the  flame   that 


40  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

lights  up  the  stars,  and  spreads  its  light  over  the 
universe.  The  mountains  vomit  the  fire  that  the 
earth  has  held  in  its  bosom.  This  same  fire 
remains  unseen  in  the  veins  of  the  flint,  and  waits 
for  the  blow  that  shall  excite  it  and  make  it  kindle 
mountains.  Mankind  have  learned  the  way  to 
obtain  it,  and  subject  it  to  their  use,  to  make  it 
bend  the  hardest  metals,  to  feed  and  cherish  it  in 
cold  climates,  and  make  it  take  the  place  of  the 
absent  sun.  Fire  penetrates  all  seeds  ;  it  is  as  the 
soul  of  everything  that  lives;  it  consumes  all  that 
is  impure,  and  renews  what  it  has  first  purified. 
The  ancients  worshipped  fire ;  they  believed  that  it 
was  a  celestial  treasure  that  mankind  had  stolen 
from  the  gods. 

But  it  is  time  to  raise  our  eyes  to  the  heavens. 
Who  has  stretched  over  our  heads  this  vast  and 
glorious  vault  ?  What  sublime  objects  are  there  ! 
An  all  powerful  hand  has  presented  this  grand 
spectacle  to  our  vision.  It  is,  says  Cicero,  in  order 
that  we  may  admire  the  heavens,  that  God  has 
formed  man  differently  from  other  animals.  He  is 
made  upright,  and  lifts  his  head  that  he  may  con- 
template that  which  is  above  him. 

What  does  the  regular  succession  of  day  and 
night  teach  us?  The  sun  has  never  omitted,  for 
so  many  ages,  to  shed  his  blessing  upon  us.  Aurora 
never  fails  lo  aimonncc  the  day  ;  she  appears  at 
the  apj)ointod  time,  and  in  the  fixed  place,  and  the 
sun.  says  the   Holy  Book,  knows  its  going  down. 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  41 

Thus  it  enlightens  alternately  both  sides  of  the 
world,  and  sheds  it  rays  on  all.  Day  is  the  time  for 
society  and  employment.  Night  folds  the  world  in 
darkness,  finishes  our  labors,  and  softens  our  trou- 
bles. It  suspends,  it  calms  everything.  It  sheds 
round  us  silence  and  sleep  ;  it  rests  our  bodies,  it 
revives  our  spirits.  Then  day  returns,  and  recalls 
man  to  labor,  and  reanimates  all  nature. 

Besides  the  constant  course  of  the  sun  that  pro- 
duces day  and  night,  during  six  months  it  approaches 
one  pole,  and  during  the  other  six,  the  opposite 
one.  By  this  beautiful  order,  one  sun  answers  for 
the  whole  world.  If  the  sun  at  the  same  distance 
were  larger,  it  would  light  the  whole  world,  but  it 
would  consume  it  with  its  heat.  If  it  were  smaller, 
the  earth  would  be  all  ice,  and  could  not  be  inhab- 
ited by  men.  What  compass  has  been  stretched 
from  heaven  to  earth,  and  taken  such  just  measure- 
ments ?  The  changes  of  the  sun  make  the  variety 
of  the  seasons,  which  we  find  so  delightful.  The 
spring  checks  the  cold  winds,  wakens  the  flowers, 
and  gives  the  promise  of  fruits.  The  summer 
brings  the  riches  of  the  harvest.  The  autumn  dis- 
plays the  fruits  that  spring  has  promised.  Winter, 
which  is  the  night  of  the  year,  treasures  up  all  its 
riches,  only  in  order  that  the  following  spring  may 
bring  them  forth  again  with  new  beauty.  Thus 
nature,  so  variously  adorned,  presents  alternately 
her  beautiful  changes,  that  man  may  never  cease 
to  admire. 

4* 


42  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

Let  us  look  up  again  at  this  immense  concave 
above  us,  where  sparkle  the  countless  stars.  If  it 
be  solid,  who  is  the  architect  ?  Who  is  it  that  has 
fastened  in  it,  at  regular  distances,  such  grand  and 
luminous  bodies  ?  Who  makes  this  vaulted  sky  to 
turn  around  us  so  regularly  ?  If,  on  the  contrary, 
the  heavens  are  only  immense  spaces,  filled  with 
fluid  bodies,  like  the  air  that  surrounds  us,  how  is 
it  that  so  many  solid  bodies  float  in  it,  without  in- 
terfering one  with  another  ?  After  so  many  ages 
that  men  have  been  making  astronomical  observa- 
tions, they  have  discovered  no  derangement  in  the 
heavens.  Can  a  fluid  body  give  such  a  constant 
and  regular  order  to  the  substances  that  float  on  its 
bosom  ?  But  what  is  this  almost  countless  multi- 
tude of  stars  for?  God  has  sown  them  in  the 
heavens,  as  a  magnificent  prince  would  adorn  his 
garments  with  precious  stones. 

But  some  one  may  say.  These  are  all  worlds  like 
the  earth  we  inhabit.  Suppose  it  be  so,  how  wise 
and  powerful  must  He  be,  who  has  made  worlds 
as  innumerable  as  the  grains  of  sand  on  the  sea- 
shore, and  who  has  led  on  in  order,  for  so  many 
ages,  all  these  moving  worlds,  as  a  shepherd  leads 
his  flocks.  The  motion  of  the  stars,  it  is  said,  is 
regulated  by  immutable  laws.  I  suppose  the  fact, 
but  it  is  this  very  fact  that  will  prove  what  I  wish 
to  establish.  Who  is  it  that  has  given  laws  to  all 
nature  .so  constant  and  so  salutary  ?  laws  so  simple, 
that  people  arc  tempted  to  believe,  that  they  estab- 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  43 

lisli  themselves :  so  full  of  utility,  that  we  cannot  help 
recognising  in  them  a  miraculous  skill.  Whence 
comes  the  power  that  conducts  this  admirable  ma- 
chine of  the  universe,  that  is  ever  moving  for  us  with- 
out our  thinking  of  it  ?  To  whom  shall  we  attribute 
this  assemblage  of  so  many  means,  so  wonderful 
and  so  well  arranged  ;  so  many  bodies,  great  and 
small,  visible  and  invisible  ?  If  the  least  atom  of 
this  machine  were  to  become  deranged,  it  would 
disorganise  the  universe.  What  is  this  design,  so 
unlimited,  so  admi  ally  pursued,  so  beautiful,  so 
beneficent  ?  The  necessity  of  these  laws,  far  from 
preventing  me  f  om  seeking  the  author,  only 
increases  my  curiosity  and  my  admiration.  The 
hand  that  guides  this  glorious  work  must  be  as 
skilful  as  it  is  powerful,  to  have  made  it  so  sim- 
ple, yet  so  effectual ;  so  constant  and  so  beneficent. 
I  am  ready  to  exclaim,  in  the  language  of  Scripture, 
"  Every  star  makes  haste  to  go  where  God  com- 
mands it,"  and  when  he  speaks,  they  answer  with 
trembling,  "  We  are  here." 

But  let  us  turn  our  attention  to  the  animals,  still 
more  worthy  of  our  admiration  than  the  heavens 
and  the  stars.  Their  species  cU'e  innumerable. 
The  wings  of  birds,  and  the  fins  of  fishes  are  like 
oars,  with  which  they  cleave  the  waves  of  air  or 
water,  and  which  conduct  the  floating  body  of  the 
bird  or  fish,  that  is  formed  like  a  boat.  But  the 
wings  of  birds  have  feathers,  that  are  covered  with 
a  soft  down,  that  expands  in  the  air,  and  would 


44  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

grow  heavy  in  the  water ;  but  the  fins  of  the  fishes 
are  of  dry  and  hard  pointed  bones,  that  cut  the 
water  without  imbibing  it,  and  do  not  become 
heavier  from  being  wet.  Some  birds  that  swim, 
as  the  swan,  hft  up  their  wings  and  all  their  phim- 
age,  for  fear  of  wetting  it,  and  make  use  of  it  as 
sails.  They  have  the  art  of  turning  it  towards  the 
wind,  and  tacking  like  a  vessel  when  it  is  not 
favorable. 

Among  animals,  ferocious  beasts,  such  as  lions, 
have  the  largest  muscles  in  the  shoulders,  thighs  and 
legs.  These  animals  are  also  very  supple,  nervous, 
agile,  and  quick  to  spring.  Their  jaw-bones  are  im- 
mense, compared  to  the  rest  of  the  body.  They 
have  teeth  and  tusks,  which  serve  them  as  terrible 
arms  against  their  prey.  Some  animals,  like  the  tor- 
toise, carry  about  with  them  the  house  in  which  they 
were  born  ;  others  build  theirs,  like  the  birds,  upon 
the  high  branches  of  trees,  to  preserve  their  little 
ones  from  being  injured  by  animals  without  wings. 
They  place  their  nests  amidst  the  thickest  foliage, 
to  hide  them  from  their  enemies.  The  beaver 
builds  for  himself  an  asylum  from  the  very  bottom 
of  the  water,  and  raises  dikes  to  secure  it  from  inun- 
dation. The  fox  makes  his  burrow  with  two  open- 
ings, that  he  may,  if  surprised,  escape  the  snares  of 
the  hunter.  Birds,  says  Cicero,  that  have  very  long 
legs,  have  also  long  necks,  in  proportion,  so  that 
they  can  reach  the  bottom  and  take  their  food. 
The  elephant,  whose  neck  would  be  too  heavy,  if  it 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  45 

were  as  long  as  the  camel's,  is  provided  with  a  long 
trunk,  which  is  a  succession  of  nerves  and  muscles, 
that  it  can  stretch  out  and  contract,  that  it  can  fold 
up  and  turn  in  any  way  it  pleases,  to  seize  any- 
thing, or  to  lift  or  repulse  any  object.  The  Ro- 
mans called  it  a  hand. 

Certain  animals  seem  made  for  man.  The  dog 
seems  born  for  his  caresses  and  his  service.  The 
horse  seems  born  to  carry  his  burdens,  to  support 
him  in  his  weakness,  and  to  obey  his  will.  The 
ox  has  the  strength  and  patience  that  is  wanted  to 
drag  the  plough.  The  cow  refreshes  him  with  her 
milk.  The  sheep  lias  a  superfluous  clothing  which 
is  continually  renewed,  as  if  to  invite  man  to  accept 
it.  Even  goats  have  a  sort  of  long  hair,  which  is 
useless  to  them,  and  of  which  men  make  stuffs  to 
wear.  The  skins  of  animals,  in  cold  countries, 
supply  the  inhabitants  with  the  most  beautiful  furs. 
Thus  the  Author  of  nature  has  clothed  the  brute 
creation  according  to  their  necessities,  and  their 
apparel  serves  for  the  use  of  man. 

If  any  animals  appear  useless  to  us,  we  ought  to 
consider,  that  whatever  makes  a  part  of  this  grand 
spectacle  of  nature,  is  not  without  its  use  in  the 
eyes  of  those  who  think  and  attend  to  it.  What  is 
there  more  magnificent  than  those  various  republics 
of  animals,  all  so  well  governed  and  difl'erent  from 
each  other  ?  Everything  demonstrates  to  us,  how  far 
the  skill  of  the  Avorkman  surpasses  the  vile  material 
that  he  employs.     Everything  astonishes  me,  eveil 


46  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

the  structure  of  the  smallest  fly.  We  find  in  the 
most  insignificant  worm,  as  in  an  elephant  or  in  a 
whale,  perfectly  organized  members.  We  see  in  it 
a  head  and  body  ;  limbs  as  in  the  greatest  animals  ; 
there  are,  in  each  part  of  these  living  atoms,  mus- 
cles, nerves,  veins,  arteries,  blood ;  in  this  blood, 
component  parts  and  humors ;  in  these  humors, 
particles,  containing  in  themselves  different  sub- 
stances ;  and  we  know  not  where  to  stop  in  the  infi- 
nite process.  The  microscope  discovers  to  us  in 
every  object,  a  thousand  things  that  have  escaped 
our  observation.  Within  these,  how  many  wonders 
are  there,  that  the  microscope  cannot  discover  to 
us.  What  should  we  not  see,  if  we  could  contin- 
ually improve  the  instruments,  which  we  use  in 
aid  of  our  feeble  vision.  But  let  our  imagination 
be  a  sort  of  microscope,  by  which  Ave  may  see,  in 
every  atom,  thousands  of  new  and  invisible  worlds  ; 
it  could  only  present  to  us  new  discoveries  in  the 
smallest  bodies ;  we  should  be  wearied,  and  at  last 
we  should  leave,  in  the  smallest  organ,  a  thousand 
imknown  wonders. 

Let  us  dwell  for  a  while  upon  the  animal  ma- 
chine. Animals  have  what  we  call  instinct,  that 
enables  them  to  pursue  what  is  useful,  and  avoid 
what  is  hurtful.  We  need  not  seek  to  know  what 
this  instinct  is  ;  let  us  be  contented  with  the  sim- 
ple fiict,  without  reasoning  about  it.  The  lamb 
knows  its  mother  at  a  distance.  The  sheep  is 
conscious  of  the  approach  of  the  wolf  before  she  can 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  47 

see  him.  There  is  in  all  animals  a  contingent 
power,  that  enables  them  to  collect  their  faculties 
in  an  instant,  that  braces  their  nerves,  and  renders 
their  joints  supple,  and  that  gives  them,  in  sudden 
danger,  an  almost  miraculous  agility,  strength, 
and  adroitness  in  escaping  from  their  enemy.  It 
is  instinct,  it  is  said  that  guides  animals.  I  grant 
it.  It  is  in  truth  an  instinct ;  but  this  instinct  is 
a  most  admirable  sagacity  and  dexterity,  not  in  the 
animals,  who  have  not  the  power  at  the  time  to 
reason,  but  in  that  superior  wisdom  that  directs 
them. 

This  instinct,  or  this  wisdom,  that  thinks  and 
watches  over  animals  in  unexpected  circumstances, 
when  they  could  not  reason,  or  protect  themselves 
even  if  they  had  our  reason,  can  only  be  the  wis- 
dom of  the  workman  who  has  made  the  machine. 
Let  us  then  no  longer  speak  of  instinct  or  nature  ; 
these  are  only  empty  sounds  in  the  mouths  of  those 
who  repeat  them.  There  is,  in  what  we  call  na- 
ture and  instinct,  an  art,  an  admirable  skill,  of  which 
human  invention  is  only  the  image.  This  is  in- 
dubitable :  there  are  in  animals  an  immense  num- 
ber of  movements  entirely  unpremeditated,  that 
are  performed  according  to  the  most  perfect  rules 
of  mechanics.  It  is  the  machine  obeying  its  laws. 
This  is  the  fact,  independent  of  all  philosophy, 
and  the  fact  is  enough.  What  should  we  think  of 
a  watch,  that  should  be  able  to  defend  itself,  or 
escape  when  any  one  desired  to  break  it  ?     Should 


48  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

we  not  admire  the  skill  of  the  workman  ?  Could 
we  believe  that  this  watch  could  be  formed,  pro- 
portioned, and  arranged  by  mere  chance  ?  Should 
we  think  that  these  operations  were  satisfactorily 
explained,  by  saying,  It  is  nature  or  instinct  that 
makes  this  watch  tell  its  master  the  hours,  and 
escape  from  those  who  wish  to  hurt  it  ? 

What  can  be  more  perfect  than  a  machine  that 
ever  renews  and  repairs  itself?  As  the  animal  is 
limited  in  its  strength,  it  is  soon  exhausted  by 
labor ;  but  the  more  it  is  used,  the  more  it  is 
prompted  to  compensate  its  losses  by  an  abundant 
nourishment.  Food  restores  the  waste  of  every 
day.  A  foreign  substance  enters  the  body,  and, 
by  a  strange  metamorphosis,  becomes  a  part  of  it. 
First  it  is  ground  up  and  is  changed  into  a  liquid ; 
then  it  is  purified,  as  if  it  were  passed  through  a 
sieve  in  order  to  separate  the  parts  of  it  that  are 
too  gross.  Then  it  passes  to  the  centre,  Avhere  it 
goes  through  a  process,  by  which  it  is  refined  and 
turned  into  blood,  and  at  last  it  flows  through  in- 
numerable channels,  and  waters  all  the  members, 
and  insinuates  itself  throngh  the  whole  frame ;  it 
is  filtrated  by  the  flesh'  as  it  passes,  and  finally  it 
becomes  flesh  itself.  So  many  different  solids  and 
liquids  become  all  the  same  substance.  The  food 
whirh  was  only  an  inanimate  body,  becomes  a 
liviii-j;  rui)iii;il.  What  was  not  long  since  a  horse, 
is  now  only  a  vapor  or  air.  What  was  only  hay 
or  oats,  has  become  that  noble,  high-spirited  animal. 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF  GOD. 


49 


He  passes  for  the  same  animal,  notwithstanding  this 
insensible  ofiange  in  his  substance. 

To  nourishment  is  added  sleep.  All  external 
motions  cease,  and  even  all  the  interior  operations 
that  might  agitate  and  dissipate  the  spirits  ;  nothing 
remains  but  digestion  and  respiration  ;  that  is  to 
say,  everything  is  suspended  that  requires  effort, 
and  everything  necessary  for  renovation  is  active 
and  free.  This  repose,  which  seems  a  sort  of  en- 
chantment, returns  every  night,  while  the  darkness 
interrupts  labor.  Who  has  contrived  this  suspen- 
sion ?  Who  is  it  that  has  so  well  chosen  the  ope- 
rations of  this  machine  that  ought  to  proceed,  and 
stop])ed  so  wisely  those  that  should  be  at  rest  ? 
The  next  morning  all  its  fatigues  have  passed  away. 
The  animal  labors  as  if  he  had  never  labored  before, 
and  there  is  a  vivacity  and  spirit  in  him  that  invite 
to  new  exertion,  in  consequence  of  the  renovation. 

Let  us  stop  no  longer  at  the  inferior  animals.  It 
is  time  to  study  the  structure  of  the  human  frame  ; 
of  man,  that  we  may  discover  Him  in  whose  image 
he  is  made.  I  see  in  all  nature  but  two  kinds  of 
beings  ;  those  who  have  knowledge,  and  those  who 
have  none.  Man  unites  in  his  nature  these  two 
forms  of  being.  He  has  a  body  like  the  most 
inanimate  beings  ;  he  has  a  soul,  that  is,  a  power 
of  thought,  by  which  he  knows  himself  and  per- 
ceives all  that  is  around  him.  If  it  be  true,  that 
there  is  a  Being  who  has  drawn  everything  from 
nothing,  man  is  his  true  image  ;  for  he  unites  in 
5 


50  Oi\    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

his  nature,  the  perfection  of  those  two  forms  of 
being.  But  the  image  is  only  an  image  :  it  can 
only  be  a  shadow  of  the  truly  perfect  Being. 

Let  us  begin  with  the  body  of  man  :  it  is  mould- 
ed of  clay,  but  let  us  admire  the  hand  that  has 
fashioned  it.  The  stamp  of  the  workman  is 
imprinted  on  his  work :  it  seems  to  have  been  his 
pleasure  to  make  of  such  worthless  materials  a  per- 
fect work.  Observe  the  bones  that  support  the 
flesh  which  surrounds  them  ;  the  nerves,  that  give  it 
strength  ;  the  muscles,  that,  by  being  expanded  or 
lengthened,  produce  the  most  certain  and  regular 
motions.  The  bones  are  separated  at  certain  dis- 
tances, and  are  fitted  one  to  another,  and  fastened 
by  nerves  and  tendons.  Cicero  admired,  with 
good  reason,  the  beautiful  contrivance  that  unites 
the  bones.  What  can  be  more  supple  and  adapted 
to  difterent  motions  ;  but  what  is  there  more  firm 
and  durable  ?  Thus,  this  machine  is  erect  or  bent, 
stifl"  or  flexible,  as  we  wish  it. 

From  the  brain,  which  is  the  source  of  all  the 
nerves,  flows  the  vital  principle.  It  is  too  subtile  to 
be  discerned,  but  nevertheless  real,  and  so  active, 
that  it  produces  all  the  motions  and  all  the  strength 
of  the  machine.  It  flies  in  an  instant  to  the  farthest 
extremity  of  the  body.  Now  it  moves  gently  and 
with  uniformity  ;  now  with  a  violent  impetuosity; 
it  varies  unceasingly,  with  the  dilferent  situations 
of  the  body. 

The  flesh  is  covered  in  certain  parts  with  a  thin 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  51 

and  delicate  skin  for  the  ornament  of  the  body.  In 
some  parts,  this  skin  is  harder  and  thicker  than  in 
Others,  that  it  may  resist  the  wear  upon  it ;  for  in- 
stance, how  much  thicker  the  skin  is  on  the  sole 
of  the  foot,  than  the  face  ;  on  the  back  part,  than 
on  the  front  of  the  head.  This  skin  is  pierced 
everywhere  like  a  sieve,  with  small  holes ;  these 
are  called  pores  ;  while  the  prespiration  is  insensibly 
exhaled  through  them,  and  the  blood  never  escapes. 
The  skin  has  all  the  delicacy  necessary  to  make  it 
transparent,  and  give  to  the  countenance  an  anima- 
ted and  beautiful  color.  Who  has  tempered  and 
mingled  these  colors,  so  as  to  produce  this  brilliant 
carnation  that  painters  admire  and  vainly  endeavor 
to  imitate  ? 

We  find  in  the  human  body  innumerable  chan- 
nels. Some  carry  the  blood  from  the  centre  to  the 
extremities,  and  are  called  arteries  ;  others  return 
it  from  the  extremities  to  the  centre,  and  are  called 
veins.  Through  all  these  various  canals,  the  blood 
flows  ;  it  is  a  soft,  unctuous  liquid,  calculated  from 
this  quality  to  preserve  the  most  delicate  substances, 
as  we  preserve  essences  in  gums.  This  blood  wa- 
ters the  flesh,  as  rivers  water  the  earth.  After  be- 
ing filtered  by  what  it  has  passed  through,  it  returns 
to  its  source  slowly;  and  divested  of  the  vital  jjrin- 
ciple  ;  but  it  renews  and  refreshes  itself  again,  and 
so  circulates  perpetually. 

Who  can  explain  the  delicacy  of  the  organs  by 
which  we  discover  the  taste  of  such  a  variety  of 


52  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

bodies  ?  How  is  it  that  so  many  voices  strike  my 
ear  at  the  same  time,  and  produce  no  confusion, 
and  that  after  they  are  gone,  these  sounds  leave 
with  me  such  lively  and  distinct  resemblances  of 
what  they  were  ?  With  what  care  has  He,  who 
made  our  bodies,  provided  our  eyes  with  a  moist 
and  moving  envelope,  to  close  them  with.  And 
why  has  he  left  our  ears  always  open?  Who  is  it 
that  paints  on  my  eye  in  an  instant,  the  heavens, 
the  ocean,  the  earth  ?  How  is  it  that  on  such  a 
little  organ,  faithful  images  of  every  object  in  na- 
ture, from  the  sun  to  the  motes  in  his  beams,  are 
depicted  and  clearly  defined  ? 

This  substance  of  the  brain  that  preserves  in 
order  these  lively  representations  of  the  glorious 
objects  that  we  see  in  the  universe,  is  it  not  a  most 
wonderful  thing  ?  We  admire  with  reason  the 
invention  of  books,  in  which  are  preserved  the  his- 
tories of  so  many  facts,  and  which  are  the  deposi- 
taries of  so  many  thoughts.  But  what  comparison 
is  there  between  the  most  delightful  book,  and  the 
brain  of  a  learned  man  ?  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  this  brain  is  a  far  more  precious  collection,  and 
a  much  more  beautiful  invention,  than  any  book. 
In  this  little  reservoir,  you  can  find  at  any  moment 
every  image  that  you  desire.  You  call  them,  they 
come.  You  send  them  away,  they  hide  them- 
selves, we  know  not  where,  and  others  appear  in 
their  place.  We  open  and  shut  our  imaginations 
as  we  open  and  shut  a  book  ;  as  one  may  say,  we 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  53 

turn  over  its  leaves,  we  pass  suddenly  from  one 
end  of  it  to  the  other.  We  have  even  tablets  in 
the  memory,  to  indicate  the  places  where  certain 
images  may  be  found.  These  innumerable  charac- 
ters which  the  mind  can  read  so  rapidly,  leave  no 
traces  on  the  brain.  If  you  examine  it,  you  see 
only  a  soft  substance,  a  sort  of  cluster  of  fine,  ten- 
der, and  twisted  threads.  What  hand  has  hidden  in 
this  apparently  shapeless  matter,  such  precious  ima- 
ges, and  arranged  them  there  in  such  beautiful  order? 

But  the  body  of  man,  that  seems  the  chef-d^ amvi'e 
of  nature,  is  not  comparable  to  his  soul.  Whence 
comes  it  that  beings  so  unlike  are  united  in  his 
composition  ?  Whence  comes  it  that  the  move- 
ments of  the  body  give  so  infallibly  and  so  promptly 
certain  thoughts  to  the  soul  ?  How  is  it  that  the 
thoughts  of  the  soul  produce  certain  movements  of 
the  body  ?  Whence  comes  it  that  this  harmonious 
connexion  exists  without  interruption  for  seventy 
or  eighty  years  ?  Whence  comes  it  that  two  be- 
ings possessing  such  different  operations,  make  a 
whole  so  perfect,  that  some  are  tempted  to  believe 
that  they  are  one  and  indivisible  ? 

What  hand  has  united  these  two  extremes  ? 
Matter  could  not  make  an  agreement  with  spirit. 
The  spirit  has  no  recollection  of  making  any  com- 
pact with  matter.  Nevertheless,  it  is  certain,  that 
it  is  dependent  on  the  body,  and  that  it  cannot 
be  freed  from  its  power  unless  it  destroys  it  by  a 
violent  death.  This  dependence  ,is  reciprocal. 
5* 


54  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

Nothing  is  more  absolute  than  the  empire  of  the 
soul  over  the  body.  The  spirit  wills,  and  every 
member  of  the  body  is  instantly  moved,  as  if  it 
were  impelled  by  some  powerful  machine.  What 
hand,  holding  an  equal  power  over  both  these  na- 
tures, has  imposed  this  yoke  upon  them,  and  held 
them  captive  in  a  connexion  so  nice  and  so  invio- 
lable ?  Can  any  one  say.  Chance  ?  If  they  do, 
can  they  understand  what  they  say  themselves, 
and  make  others  comprehend  it  ?  Has  chance 
linked  together  by  a  concourse  of  atoms  the  par- 
ticles of  body  with  soul  ? 

My  alternative  is  this ;  if  the  soul  and  the  body 
are  only  a  composition  of  matter,  whence  is  it  that 
this  matter,  which  did  not  think  yesterday,  begins 
to  think  to-day  ?  Who  is  it  that  has  given  it  what 
it  did  not  before  possess,  and  what  is  incomparably 
more  noble  than  itself,  when  it  was  without 
thought  ?  Does  not  that  which  bestows  thought, 
possess  it  ?  Suppose  even  that  thought  resulted 
from  a  certain  configuration  and  arrangement  and 
motion  of  matter;  what  workman  has  discovered 
these  just  and  nice  combinations,  so  as  to  make  a 
thinking  machine  ?  If,  on  the  contrary,  the  soul 
and  the  body  are  two  distinct  substances,  what 
power,  superior  to  both  those  different  natures  has 
bound  them  together  ?  Who  is  it,  with  a  supreme 
empire  over  both,  has  sent  forth  his  command  that 
they  siiould  be;  linlccd  togf^lher,  by  a  correspondence 
and  in  a  civil  subjection  that  is  incomprehensible  ? 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  55 

The  empire  of  my  mind  over  my  body  is  des- 
potic to  a  certain  extent,  since  my  simple  will, 
without  elfort  or  preparation,  can  move  every 
member  of  my  body  by  mechanical  rules.  As  the 
Scriptures  represent  God,  in  the  creation,  to  have 
said,  "Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was  light,*'  so 
the  voice  of  my  soul  speaks,  and  my  body  obeys. 
This  is  the  power  which  men,  who  believe  in  God, 
attribute  to  him  over  the  universe. 

This  power  of  the  soul  over  the  body  which  is 
so  absolute,  is  at  the  same  time  a  blind  one.  The 
most  ignorant  man  moves  his  body  as  well  as  the 
best  instructed  anatomist.  The  player  on  the  lute, 
who  perfectly  understands  all  the  chords  of  his  in- 
strument, who  sees  it  with  his  eyes  and  touches  it 
with  his  fingers,  often  makes  mistakes.  But  the 
soul  that  governs  the  machine  of  the  human  body, 
can  move  every  spring  without  seeing  it,  without 
seeing  or  understanding  its  figure,  or  situation,  or 
strength,  and  never  mistakes.  How  wonderful  is 
this !  My  soul  commands  what  it  does  Jiot  know, 
what  it  cannot  see,  and  Avhat  it  is  itself  incapable 
of  knowing  ;  and  it  is  infallibly  obeyed.  How 
great  its  ignorance,  and  how  great  its  power !  The 
blindness  is  ours;  but  the  power,  whence  is  it  ? 
To  whom  shall  we  attribute  it,  if  not  to  Him,  who 
sees  what  man  cannot  see,  and  who  gives  him  the 
power  to  perform  what  surpasses  his  own  conijirc- 
hension  ? 

The  truth  is,  we  cannot  admire  too  much  this 


56  ON    THE    EXISTEA'CE    OF    GOD. 

absolute  empire  of  the  soul  over  the  corporeal 
organs,  that  it  does  not  understand,  and  the  con- 
tinual use  that  it  makes  of  it.  This  is  principally 
shown  in  recalling  images  traced  on  the  brain.  I 
am  acquainted  with  all  the  objects  of  the  universe, 
that  have  impressed  my  senses  for  a  great  number 
of  years ;  I  have  distinct  images  of  them,  so  that 
I  can  think  I  see  them  when  they  are  no  more. 
My  brain  is  a  cabinet  of  pictures,  every  one  of 
which  is  brought  forward  or  removed,  according  to 
the  taste  of  the  master  of  the  mansion.  By  the 
portraits  which  I  have  in  my  head,  I  judge  whether 
the  artist's  picture  is  a  faithful  representation.  It 
is  by  consulting  them,  that  I  ascertain  where  are 
his  defects.  Such  wonders  astonish  me.  I  remem- 
ber distinctly  having  known  that  which  I  no  longer 
know.  I  recall  the  face  of  every  person  in  every 
age  of  life,  in  which  I  have  known  them.  The 
same  person  passes  in  dilferent  forms  through  my 
mind.  First,  I  see  him  a  child,  then  a  man,  and 
at  last  old.  I  place  the  wrinkles  upon  the  same 
face  in  which  I  have  seen  the  tender  and  lovely 
traits  of  childhood.  I  join  that  which  is  no  more, 
with  what  now  exists,  witliout  confounding  their 
outlines.  I  preserve  in  this  storehouse  a  something 
which  has  been  successively  everything  I  have 
known  since  I  was  born.  From  this  treasure  spring 
all  the  perfumes,  all  the  harmony,  all  the  tastes,  all 
the  degrees  of  light,  all  the  bright  colors,  and  all 
their  shades  ;  in  short,  all  the  forms  that  have  been 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  57 

presented  to  my  senses,  and  which  they  have  con- 
veyed to  my  brain. 

I  recall,  when  I  please,  the  joy  that  I  experienced 
thirty  years  since.  It  returns,  but  it  is  not  the 
same.  It  appears,  but  it  does  not  rejoice  me.  I 
remember  that  I  was  glad,  but  I  am  not  so  at  the 
remembrance.  On  the  other  hand,  I  bring  back 
departed  sorrows.  They  are  present  witli  me  ;  for 
I  perceive  them  just  as  they  were  at  the  time. 
Nothing  escapes  me  of  their  bitterness,  and  of  the 
acuteness  of  the  feeling.  But  they  are  not  tbe  same 
thing.  They  trouble  me  no  longer ;  they  are 
softened.  I  see  all  their  severity  without  feeling 
it,  or  if  I  feel  it,  it  is  only  as  a  representation  :  it  is 
like  a  scene  of  a  play  ;  the  images  of  past  griefs 
give  us  pleasure.  It  is  the  same  with  our  pleasures. 
A  virtuous  heart  is  afflicted  at  the  recollection  of 
its  unworthy  pleasures.  They  are  present  to  us, 
but  they  are  no  longer  themselves ;  such  joys  re- 
turn only  to  bid  us  weep. 

Chance  surely  never  created  this  wonderful  book  ; 
all  the  art  of  man  is  unequal  to  such  perfection. 
What  hand  has  made  it  ? 

Let  us  conclude  these  remarks  by  some  reflec- 
tions upon  the  nature  of  the  mind  of  man.  I  find 
in  it  an  incomprehensible  mixture  of  greatness  and 
weakness.  Its  grandeur  is  real.  It  connects,  with- 
out confusion,  the  past  with  the  present,  and  it 
penetrates  into  the  future  ;  it  has  an  idea  of  matter 
and  of  spirit ;  it  has  within   it   the   idea  even  of 


53  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

infinity,  for  it  will  deny  all  that  does  not  belong  to 
it,  and  affirm  all  that  does.  Say  that  infinity  is 
triangular,  and  it  will  instantly  answer,  that  what 
has  no  limits  cannot  have  any  form.  Ask  it  to 
name  the  first  unit  of  an  infinite  number,  and  it 
will  readily  answer,  that  there  can  be  neither  be- 
ginning, nor  end,  nor  number,  in  infinity.  It  is 
through,  the  infinite  that  it  comes  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  finite. 

How  glorious  is  the  spirit  that  is  in  man  ;  it 
bears  within  itself  what  is  far  beyond  its  own  com- 
prehension. Its  ideas  are  universal,  eternal,  and 
immutable.  They  are  universal :  because,  Avhen 
I  say,  —  It  is  impossible  to  be  and  not  to  be  ;  The 
whole  is  greater  than  a  part ;  A  perfectly  circular  line 
has  no  straight  parts ;  Between  two  given  points, 
the  straightest  line  is  the  shortest  ;  The  centre  of 
a  circle  is  equally  distant  from  all  the  points  in  its 
circumference  ; — none  of  these  truths  can  be  con- 
troverted, there  can  be  no  line  or  circle  that  does 
not  obey  these  laws.  These  truths  are  of  all  time 
or  rather  before  all  time,  and  will  continue  beyond 
it  through  an  incomprehensible  duration. 

Let  the  universe  be  overthrown  and  annihilated, 
let  there  be  no  minds  to  reason  upon  these  truths, 
they  will  still  remain  equally  true;  as  the  rays  of 
the  sun  would  be  no  less  real,  if  men  should  be 
blind  and  not  see  them.  In  feeling  assured,  says 
St.  Augustin,  that  two  and  two  make  four,  we  are 
not  only  certain  tliat  we  say  what  is  true,  but  we 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  59 

have  no  doubt  that  this  proposition  has  been  always, 
and  will  continue  to  be  eternally  true. 

These  fundamental  ideas  have  no  limits,  and  can- 
not be  changed.  What  I  have  advanced  of  one 
circle,  we  acknowledge  to  be  necessarily  true  of 
all  circles,  to  infinity.  These  ideas,  that  are  illimit- 
able, can  never  change,  or  be  effaced,  or  impaired ; 
they  are  the  foundations  of  our  reason.  It  is  im- 
possible, whatever  power  we  may  exert  over  our 
minds,  to  make  ourselves  seriously  doubt  anything 
that  these  ideas  represent  to  us.  The  idea  of  in- 
finity is  within  us  in  like  manner.  Change  the 
ideas,  and  you  overthrow  reason.  Let  us  learn  the 
greatness  of  our  natures  from  this  immutable  idea 
of  infinity,  that  is  imprinted  within  us,  and  that 
can  never  be  effaced.  But,  lest  our  real  greatness 
should  dazzle  our  eyes,  and  flatter  us  to  our  injury, 
let  us  hasten  to  contemplate  our  weakness. 

The  same  mind  that  dwells  upon  the  infinite, 
and  through  it  sees  the  finite,  is  ignorant  of  all  that 
surrounds  it.  It  does  not  know  itself.  It  gropes 
its  way  through  an  abyss  of  darkness.  It  knows 
not  what  it  is  itself ;  it  does  not  comprehend  how 
it  is  chained  to  this  body,  nor  how  it  has  such  an 
empire  over  it.  It  is  ignorant  of  its  own  thoughts 
and  its  own  desires ;  it  does  not  know  with  cer- 
tainty what  it  believes  or  what  it  desires.  It  often 
deceives  itself  and  its  highest  attainment  is  to  un- 
derstand itself  It  joins  errors  in  opinion  to  a  per- 
verted will ;  and  it  is  often  reduced  to  groan  and 
weep  at  the  experience  of  its  own  corruption. 


60  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

Such  is  the  spirit  of  man,  weak,  uncertain,  lim- 
ited, full  of  imperfections.  Who  has  giv^en  the 
idea  of  infinity,  that  is,  of  perfection,  to  a  being 
SO  short-sighted,  so  full  of  imperfection  ?  Has  he 
given  to  himself  this  thought,  so  high,  so  pure, 
which  is  in  itself  an  image  of  the  infinite?  Let 
us  suppose  that  the  spirit  of  man  is  like  a  mirror, 
in  which  the  images  of  all  the  surrounding  objects 
are  reflected  ;  whence  is  this  image  of  the  infinite 
that  we  there  trace  ?  How  can  the  image  of  an 
unreal  object  be  reflected  there  ?  The  infinite  is 
there  represented,  not  by  a  confused  mass  of  infinite 
objects,  which  the  mind  mistakes  for  the  infi- 
nite ;  it  is  the  true  infinite  that  is  presented  to  our 
thoughts.  We  understand  it  well ;  we  recognise  it, 
and  distinguish  it  from  all  that  is  not.  No  sub- 
tilty  can  put  any  other  object  in  its  place.  Whence 
com.es  this  glorious  image  ?  Do  we  draw  it  out 
of  nothing?  Can  the  finite  and  limited  being  in- 
vent and  imagine  the  infinite,  if  it  does  not  exist? 
External  objects  cannot  give  us  this  image  ;  for 
they  can  only  give  us  the  images  of  themselves, 
and  they  are  all  limited  and  imperfect.  Whence 
do  we  draw  this  distinct  representation  of  the 
infinite,  unlike  all  that  we  know  and  all  that 
exists  without  us  ?  Whence  comes  it  ?  Where  is 
this  infinite  that  we  cannot  comprehend,  and  yet 
cannot  mistake  ?  Where  does  it  dwell  ?  If  it  did 
not  exist,  could  it  be  so  engraven  in  the  depths  of 
our  souls  ?     But  besides  this  idea  of  infinity,  I  have 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  61 

general  and  immutable  ideas  which  are  the  rule  of 
all  my  judgments  :  I  cannot  decide  upon  anything 
without  consulting  them,  and  it  is  out  of  my  power 
to  decide  against  what  they  represent  to  me.  My 
thoughts,  far  from  being  able  to  correct  or  form  this 
rule,  are  themselves  corrected,  in  spite  of  myself, 
by  this  superior  power,  and  are  irresistibly  subjected 
to  its  decisions. 

I  cannot,  as  I  before  said,  doubt  that  two  and 
two  make  four,  and  so  of  other  mathematical  truths. 
I  am  not  free  to  deny  them.  This  fixed  and  im- 
mutable law  is  so  inwrought,  that  it  seems  like 
my  identity ;  but  it  is  above  me,  since  it  corrects, 
rectifies,  and  guides  me,  teaching  me  my  own  weak- 
ness and  imperfection.  It  is  a  something,  that  will 
ever  inspire  me,  if  I  listen  to  it ;  and  I  always  err 
when  I  do  not  attend  to  it. 

This  principle  will  guide  me  right,  if  I  am  docile  ; 
for  this  inspiration  of  the  Almighty  will  enable  me 
to  judge  of  the  things  that  are  around  me,  and  on 
which  I  am  called  to  decide.  And  of  all  other 
things,  it  will  teach  me  not  to  judge,  a  no  less  im- 
portant lesson  than  the  first.  This  interior  guide 
is  what  I  call  my  reason  ;  but  I  speak  of  my  reason, 
without  comprehending  the  full  import  of  the  term, 
as  I  speak  of  nature  and  instinct,  without  compre- 
hending what  these  things  are.  This  law  is  per- 
fect and  immutable.  I  am  changing  and  imperfect : 
I  deceive  myself,  while  this  never  loses  its  recti- 
tude. When  I  am  undeceived,  it  is  not  my  reason 
6 


62  ON    THE   EXISTENCE    OF   GOD. 

that  changes  and  returns  to  the  right  view,  but  it 
is  this,  which  has  never  departed  from  it,  recaUing 
and  forcing  me  to  return  to  it.  It  is  a  controlling 
power  within  me,  that  silences  or  bids  me  speak  ; 
that  makes  me  believe  or  makes  me  doubt ;  bids 
me  confess  my  errors  or  confirms  my  decisions. 
In  listening  to  it,  I  am  instructed ;  in  listening  to 
myself,  I  go  astray.  This  sovereign  power  is  found 
everywhere  ;  its  voice  is  heard  from  one  end  of  the 
universe  to  the  other,  by  all  mankind  as  it  is  by  me. 

Two  men  who  have  never  seen  each  other,  who 
have  never  heard  each  other  spoken  of,  and  who 
have  had  no  communication  with  any  other  man 
that  could  give  them  common  notions,  would  speak, 
at  the  two  extremities  of  the  world,  of  certain  truths 
in  perfect  unison.  We  know  perfectly  well  before- 
hand in  one  hemisphere,  what  answer  would  be 
returned  in  the  other,  on  certain  truths.  Men  of 
all  countries  and  of  all  times,  whatever  education 
they  may  have  received,  necessarily  think  and 
speak  of  some  things  in  the  same  manner.  It  is 
the  great  Master  that  has  taught  us  all,  who  thus 
bids  us  speak.  Thus,  when  we  think  most  of  our 
own  powers,  of  ourselves,  that  is,  of  our  reason,  this 
is  what  the  least  belongs  to  us,  this  is  most  truly  a 
borrowed  good. 

We  are  every  moment  of  our  lives  receiving  a 
reason  far  superior  to  ourselves,  just  as  we  inhale 
the  air  from  without,  or  as  wc  sec  objects  around 
us  by  the  light  of  the  sun  that  does  not  belong  to 


I 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  63 

our  vision.  It  is  this  noble  reason  that  reigns  witli 
an  absolute  dominion,  to  a  certain  point,  over  ra- 
tional beings.  It  is  this  that  makes  a  Canadian 
savage  think  many  things  that  Greek  and  Roman 
philosophers  have  thought.  It  is  this  that  led  the 
Chinese  geometricians  to  the  discovery  of  the  same 
truths  that  the  Europeans,  who  knew  nothing  of 
them,  have  become  acquainted  with.  It  is  this 
that  makes  men  think  upon  various  subjects,  just 
as  they  thought  a  thousand  years  ago.  It  is  this 
power  that  gives  a  uniformity  to  the  opinions  of 
men,  the  most  opposed  to  each  other  in  their  natures. 
It  is  by  this  that  men  of  all  ages  and  countries  are 
bound  to  an  immovable  centre,  to  which  they  are 
held  by  certain  invariable  laws,  which  we  call  first 
principles ;  notwithstanding  the  infinite  variety  of 
opinions  that  are  created  by  their  passions,  their 
distractions,  their  caprices  upon  all  other  less  cle&r 
truths.  It  is  this  power  that  has  kept  men,  de- 
praved as  they  are,  from  daring  to  call  virtue  vice, 
and  that  has  obliged  them  to  put  on  the  appear- 
ance, at  least,  of  sincerity,  moderation,  and  benefi- 
cence, when  they  would  attract  esteem. 

They  cannot  esteem  or  despise  anything  accord- 
ing to  their  own  arbitrary  wills  ;  they  cannot  force 
the  eternal  barriers  of  truth  and  justice.  The  law 
of  the  soul,  which  we  call  reason,  reigns  with  an 
absolute  sway ;  its  reproaches  are  ever  uttered  and 
repeated  at  what  is  wrong  ;  it  sets  bounds  to  the 
folly  of  the  most  audacious. 


64  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

After  vice  has  enjoyed  so  many  ages  of  unre- 
strained sway,  virtue  is  still  called  virtue ;  and  it 
cannot  be  dispossessed  of  its  name  by  its  boldest  and 
most  brutal  enemies.  From  thence  it  is  that  vice, 
although  triumphant  in  the  world,  is  still  forced  to 
disguise  itself  under  the  mask  of  hypocrisy,  that 
it  may  secure  a  regard  that  it  does  not  hope  for 
when  it  is  known  as  it  is.  Thus  it  renders,  in 
spite  of  itself,  homage  to  virtue,  by  adorning  itself 
with  her  charms,  that  it  may  receive  the  honors 
that  are  rendered  to  them.  Men  cavil,  it  is  true,  at 
the  virtuous,  and  they  are,  in  truth,  always  liable 
to  censure,  for  they  are  still  imperfect ;  but  the 
most  vicious  men  cannot  succeed  in  effacing  en- 
tirely the  idea  of  virtue.  No  man  has  ever  suc- 
ceeded in  persuading  others,  or  himself,  that  it  is 
more  estimable  to  be  deceitful,  than  to  be  sincere  ; 
to  be  violent  and  malignant,  than  to  be  gentle  and 
to  do  good.  This  inward  and  universal  teacher 
declares  the  same  truths,  at  all  times  and  places. 
It  is  true  that  we  often  contradict  it,  and  speak  with 
a  louder  voice  ;  but  then  we  deceive  ourselves,  we 
go  astray,  we  fear  that  we  shall  discover  that  we 
arc  wrong,  and  we  shut  our  ears,  lest  we  should  be 
humbled  by  its  corrections.  Where  is  this  wisdom, 
where  is  this  oracle  that  ever  speaks,  and  against 
which  the  prejudices  of  mankind  can  never  pre- 
vail ?  Where  is  this  noble  reason  which  we  are 
bound  to  consult,  and  which  of  itself  inspires  us 
witli  a  desire  to  hear  its  voice  ?    Where  dwells  this 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  65 

pure  and  gentle  light,  that  not  only  enlightens  eyes 
that  are  open  to  receive  it,  but  uncloses  those  eyes 
that  were  shut,  cures  those  that  were  diseased,  gives 
vision  to  the  blind  ;  in  short,  inspires  a  desire  for 
the  light  it  can  bestow,  and  makes  itself  beloved 
even  by  those  who  fear  it  ? 

Every  eye  has  it  ;  it  would  see  nothing  without 
it ;  it  is  by  its  pure  rays  alone  that  it  can  see  any- 
thing. As  the  visible  sun  enlightens  all  material 
bodies,  so  the  sun  of  intelligence  illuminates  all 
minds. 

There  is  a  spiritual  sun  that  enlightens  the  soul 
more  fully  than  the  material  sun  does  the  body. 
This  sun  of  truth  leaves  no  shadow,  and  it  shines 
upon  both  hemispheres.  It  is  as  brilliant  in  the 
night  as  in  the  day-time  ;  it  is  not  without  that  it 
sheds  its  rays,  it  dwells  within  each  one  of  us. 
One  man  cannot  hide  its  rays  from  another  :  what- 
ever corner  of  the  earth  we  may  go  to,  there  it  is. 
We  never  need  say  to  another.  Stand  back  that  I 
may  see  it ;  you  hide  its  rays  from  me  ;  you  de- 
prive me  of  the  portion  that  is  my  due.  This  glo- 
rious sun  never  sets ;  no  clouds  intercept  its  rays, 
but  those  formed  by  our  passions.  It  is  one  bright 
day.  It  sheds  light  upon  the  savage  in  the  darkest 
caverns.  There  are  no  eyes  so  weak  that  they 
cannot  bear  its  light ;  and  there  is  no  man  so  blind 
and  miserable,  that  does  not  walk  by  the  feeble 
light  from  this  source,  that  he  still  retains  in  his 
conscience. 

6* 


66  -        ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

We  believe  the  instructions  of  men  just  in  pro- 
portion to  the  conformity  we  find  between  them 
and  this  inward  teacher.  Afterthey  have  exhaust- 
ed all  their  reasonings,  we  still  return  to  this,  and 
listen  to  the  decision  it  makes.  If  any  one  tells  me 
that  a  part  is  equal  to  the  whole,  I  cannot  help 
laughing  ;  such  a  one  cannot  persuade  me  :  it  is 
within  myself,  by  consulting  this  inward  teacher, 
that  I  must  ascertain  the  truth  of  a  proposition. 
Far  from  pronouncing  judgment  upon  this  teacher, 
we  are  in  all  cases  judged  by  it.  It  is  disinterested 
and  superior  to  us.  We  may  refuse  to  listen  to  it, 
and  go  astray  from  it ;  but  if  we  do  listen,  we  can- 
not contradict  it.  There  seem  to  be  two  kinds  of 
reason  within  me  ;  one  is  self,  the  other  superior  to 
it.  T'hat  which  is  self,  is  very  imperfect ;  preju- 
diced, rash,  apt  to  wander,  changing,  obstinate, 
ignorant,  and  limited ;  it  possesses  nothing  that  is 
not  borrowed.  The  other,  while  it  is  common  to 
all  men,  is  yet  superior  to  them  ;  it  is  perfect,  eter- 
nal immutable,  always  ready  to  be  communicated, 
and  to  reclaim  the  erring; — given  freely  to  all, 
inexhaustible  and  indivisible.  Where  is  this  all- 
perfect  reason,  so  near  me,  yet  so  dtflercnt  from 
me  ?  where  is  it  ?  where  dwells  this  supreme  reason  ? 
Is  it  not  God  himself? 

I  find  still  further  traces  of  the  Divinity  within 
me.  I  have  within  me  a  clear  idea  of  a  perfect 
unity,  far  su))crior  to  what  I  can  discover  in  my 
own  soul ;  this  is  oflen  divided  between  two  opin-» 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  67 

ions,  between  two  inclinations,  between  two  oppo- 
site habits.  This  division  that  I  find  within  me, 
proves  a  composition  of  parts  and  something  more 
than  one.  My  soul  has  at  least  a  succession  of 
thoughts,  one  very  different  from  another.  My 
idea  of  unity  is,  if  I  may  use  the  expression,  infi- 
nitely more  one.  I  have  a  conception  of  a  Being 
who  never  changes  his  thought,  who  has  all 
thoughts  at  the  same  instant,  who  has  no  succession 
of  ideas.  It  is  doubtless  this  idea  of  a  perfect  and 
supreme  unity  in  my  own  mind,  that  makes  me 
desirous  to  find  a  unity  in  the  soul  and  even  in 
matter.  This  idea,  ever  present  to  my  spirit,  must 
have  been  born  with  me.  It  is  the  perfect  model, 
of  which  I  am  ever  seeking  the  imperfect  copy. 
This  idea  of  what  is  simply  and  indivisibly  one, 
can  only  be  the  idea  of  God.  I  then  know  God 
with  such  certainty,  that  by  this  knowledge  I  seek 
in  every  outward  thing,  and  in  myself,  some  re- 
semblance to  his  unity. 

Another  mystery  that  I  bear  within  me,  and  that 
renders  me  incomprehensible  to  myself,  is,  that  on 
the  one  hand  I  am  free,  and  on  the  other,  dependent. 
I  must  be  dependent.  Independence  is  the  supreme 
perfection.  The  Creator  must  be  the  cause  of  all 
the  modifications  of  his  creation.  The  being  who 
is  dependent  for  his  nature,  must  be  so  for  all  its 
operations.  Thus  God  is  the  real  cause  of  all  the 
combinations  and  movements  of  everything  in  the 
universe.     It  is  he  who  has  created  all  that  is. 


68  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

But  I  am  free,  and  I  cannot  doubt  it ;  I  have  an 
intimate  and  immovable  conviction  that  I  am  free 
to  will,  or  not  to  will.  There  is  within  me  a  power 
of  election,  not  only  to  will  or  not,  bnt  to  decide 
between  different  objects.  This  is  in  itself  a  proof 
of  the  immateriality  of  my  soul.  What  is  material, 
corporeal,  cannot  choose,  it  is,  on  the  contrary, 
governed  by  fixed  laws,  that  are  called  physical, 
that  are  necessary,  invincible,  and  contrary  to 
what  I  call  liberty.  In  saying,  then,  that  I  am 
free,  I  say  that  my  will  is  fuJly  in  my  power,  and 
that  God  leaves  it  to  me  to  use  it  as  I  am  disposed  j 
that  I  am  not  determined  by  a  law,  like  other  be- 
ings, but  I  will  of  myself  I  conceive,  that  if 
the  Supreme  Being  were  beforehand  to  insph'e  me 
with  a  will  to  do  right,  I  have  the  power  to  reject  / 
the  inspiration,  however  great  it  might  be,  to  frus- 
trate its  effect,  and  to  refuse  my  consent.  I  con- 
ceive, also,  that  when  I  reject  his  inspiration  to  do 
right,  I  have  actually  the  power  not  to  reject  it, 
just  as  I  have  the  power  to  open  or  shut  my  eyes. 
Outward  things  may  solicit  me  by  all  that  is 
most  captivating,  the  most  powerful  and  affecting 
arguments  may  be  presented  to  influence  me,  the 
Supreme  Being  may  touch  my  heart  with  the  most 
persuasive  inspirations ;  but  I  still  remain  free  to 
will  or  not  to  will.  It  is  this  exemption  from  all 
restraint  and  from  all  necessity,  this  empire  over 
my  own  actions,  that  makes  me  inexcusable  when 
1  will  what  is  evil,  and  praiseworthy  when  I  will 
what  is  good. 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  69 

This  is  the  foundation  of  all  merit  or  demerit ; 
it  is  this  that  makes  the  justice  of  reward  or  punish- 
ment. Hence  it  is  that  we  exhort,  reprove,  menace, 
or  promise.  This  is  the  foundation  of  all  govern- 
ment, of  all  instruction,  and  of  all  rules  of  conduct. 
Everything  in  human  life  brings  us  to  this  conclu- 
sion, that  there  is  nothing  over  which  we  have  such 
entire  control,  as  our  own  wills  ;  and  that  we  have 
this  free  will,  this  power  of  election,  between  two 
things  equally  in  our  reach.  It  is  this  truth  that 
the  shepherds  sing  among  the  mountains,  that  mer- 
chants and  artisans  take  for  granted  in  their  nego- 
tiations, that  the  actor  represents  on  the  stage  ;  the 
magistrate  recognises  it  in  his  decisions,  and  learned 
doctors  teach  it  in  their  schools  ;  it  is  what  no  man 
of  sense  can  seriously  doubt.  This  truth,  imprint- 
ed on  our  hearts,  is  acknowledged  in  the  practice 
of  those  philosophers  who  attempt  to  dverthrow  it 
by  their  chimerical  speculations.  The  internal  evi- 
dence of  this  truth,  is  like  that  we  have  of  these  first 
principles,  which  have  no  need  of  demonstration, 
and  by  which  we  prove  other  truths  less  certain. 

Let  us  view  together  these  equally  undoubted 
truths.  I  am  dependent  upon  the  Supreme  Being 
even  for  my  will ;  nevertheless  I  am  free.  What 
is  this  dependent  liberty  ?  How  can  we  compre- 
hend a  Avill  that  is  free,  and  that  is  yet  given  by 
the  Supreme  Being  ?  I  am  free  in  my  will,  as  God 
is  in  his.  It  is  in  this,  principally,  that  I  am  in  his 
image,  and  resemble  him.     This  is  a  grandeur  that 


70  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

belongs  to  the  Infinite  Being,  a  trait  of  his  celestial 
nature.  It  is  a  divine  power  that  I  possess  over 
my  will,  but  I  am  only  a  faint  image  of  his  all- 
powerful  will. 

My  liberty  is  only  a  shadow  of  that  of  the  Su- 
preme Being,  from  whom  I  exist,  and  from  whom 
I  act.  On  the  other  hand,  the  power  I  have  of 
willing  evil,  is  not  so  much  true  power,  as  the 
weakness  and  frailty  of  my  will.  It  is  a  power  to 
destroy,  to  degrade  myself,  to  lessen  my  own  per- 
fection and  being.  On  the  other  hand,  the  power 
I  have  of  willing  what  is  right,  is  not  an  indepen- 
dent power,  as  I  do  not  possess  it  in  myself.  A  bor- 
rowed power  can  only  confer  a  dependent  liberty. 
How  then  is  such  a  being  free  ?  What  a  deep 
mystery  !  Man's  liberty,  of  which  I  cannot  doubt, 
proves  his  perfection  ;  his  dependence  shows  the 
nothingness  whence  he  has  been  draAvn.  "  For 
as  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth,"  says  God 
in  the  scriptures,  "  so  are  my  ways  higher  than  your 
ways,  and  my  thoughts  than  your  thoughts." 

We  have  thus  followed  the  traces  of  the  Divinity 
through  what  are  called  the  works  of  nature.  We 
may  observe,  at  the  first  glance,  an  all-powerful 
hand  that  is  the  first  mover  of  everything,  in  every 
part  of  the  universe.  The  heavens,  the  earth,  the 
stars;  })lants,  animals;  our  bodies,  our  spirits, — 
all  discover  an  order,  a  nice  arrangement,  a  skill,  a 
wisdom,  far  superior  to  our  own,  which  is  the  soul 
of  the  whole  world,  and  which  conducts  everything 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD.  71 

to  its  destined  end,  with  a  gentle  and  insensible, 
but  all-powerful  sway.  We  have  seen,  if  we  may 
so  speak,  the  architecture  of  the  universe,  the  just 
proportions  of  all  its  parts  ;  and  one  look  is  enough 
to  discover  to  us,  in  an  insect  yet  more  than  in  the 
sun,  a  wisdom  and  a  power  that  shine  forth  in  its 
meanest  works. 

These  are  views  that  would  strike  the  most  igno- 
rant. What  would  be  our  impressions,  if  we  could 
enter  the  secrets  of  the  material  world  ;  if  we  could 
dissect  the  internal  parts  of  animals,  and  observe 
their  perfect  mechanism  !  Everything,  then,  in  the 
universe,  bears  the  marks  of  the  Divinity,  and  man 
more  than  all  the  rest.  Everything  discovers  de- 
sign to  us,  and  a  connexion  of  second  causes, 
directed  by  a  first  cause.  We  have  no  ground  to 
cavil  at  this  great  work  ;  the  defects  that  we  dis- 
cover in  it,  are  produced  by  the  ill-regulated,  but 
free  will  of  man. 

It  often  happens,  that  what  appears  like  a  defect 
to  our  limited  vision,  viewed  separately  from  the 
whole,  gives  a  beauty  to  the  general  design,  for  the 
perception  of  which  we  do  not  possess  that  enlarge- 
ment and  simplicity  of  mind,  by  which  alone  we 
could  comprehend  the  perfection  of  the  whole. 
Does  it  not  often  happen,  that  we  hastily  condemn 
parts  of  the  works  of  men,  because  we  have  not 
sufficiently  penetrated  into  the  whole  extent  of 
their  designs  ?  If  the  characters  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures  were   of  such  immense  size,  that  each 


72  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

letter,  looked  at  near,  would  nearly  fill  our  vision, 
we  could  only  see  one  at  a  time,  and  we  could  not 
read,  that  is  to  say,  collect  the  letters,  and  discover 
the  sense  of  the  whole.  It  is  the  same  with  the 
great  features  of  the  providence  of  God,  delineated 
in  the  government  of  the  world  for  so  many  ages. 
It  is  only  the  whole  that  can  be  intelligible,  and  the 
whole  is  too  vast  for  a  near  view.  Every  event  is 
a  particular  character,  which  is  too  great  for  the 
smallness  of  our  organs,  and  which  means  nothing 
if  it  is  separated  from  the  others. 

When  we  shall  see  God  as  he  is,  and  see  all  the 
events  of  human  life  from  the  first  to  the  last  day, 
in  all  their  proportions  and  their  relations  to  the 
designs  of  God,  then  shall  we  exclaim,  0 !  Lord, 
thou  alone  art  good  and  wise.  We  judge  of  the 
works  of  men  only  by  examining  the  whole. 
Every  part  ought  not  to  have  all  perfection,  but 
only  that  which  belongs  to  it  in  the  order  and  in 
the  proportion  which  pervade  the  whole.  In  the 
human  body,  it  would  not  be  well  that  all  the 
organs  should  be  eyes ;  feet  and  hands  are  also 
necessary.  In  the  universe,  we  want  the  sun  for 
the  day,  but  we  also  want  the  moon  for  the  night. 
It  is  thus  we  ought  to  judge  of  every  part,  by  its 
relation  to  the  whole  ;  every  other  view  is  narrow 
and  false.  But  how  insignificant  are  the  designs 
of  men,  when  wc  compare  them  with  the  creation 
and  government  of  the  universe  ! 

Let  man,  then,  admire  what  he  understands;  and 


ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 


73 


let  him  be  silent  when  he  cannot  comprehend. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  universe  that  does  not 
equally  bear  these  two  opposite  characters,  —  the 
stamp  of  the  Creator,  and  the  marks  of  nothingness 
from  whence  it  is  drawn,  and  into  which  it  may  at 
any  moment  be  resolved.  It  is  an  incomprehensi- 
ble mixture  of  meanness  and  glory,  of  the  frailty  of 
the  material,  and  of  skill  in  its  conformation.  The 
hand  of  God  is  displayed  everywhere,  even  in  the 
worm  ;  and  weakness  and  nothingness  are  discover- 
able everywhere,  even  in  the  most  sublime  geniuses. 
All  but  God  himself  must  be  limited  and  imperfect  ; 
it  may  have  more  or  less  of  imperfection,  but  it 
still  must  be  ever  imperfect ;  we  must  still  be  able 
to  point  out  something  in  it,  of  which  we  may  say, 
This  is  what  should  not  be,  or  this  it  does  not 
possess. 

Let  us  study  this  visible  creation  as  we  will ; 
take  the  anatomy  of  the  meanest  animal ;  look  at 
the  smallest  grain  of  corn  that  is  planted  in  the 
earth,, and  the  manner  in  which  its  germ  produces 
and  multiplies ;  observe  attentively  the  rose-bud, 
how  carefully  it  opens  to  the  sun,  and  closes  at  his 
setting  ;  and  we  shall  see  more  skill  and  design 
than  in  all  the  works  of  man.  What  we  call 
human  art,  is  only  a  feeble  imitation  of  the 
great  art  that  we  call  the  laws  of  nature,  and 
that  impiety  has  not  been  ashamed  to  call  blind 
chance. 

Can  we  be  astonished  that  poets  have  animated 


74  ON    THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOD. 

all  nature ;    that  they  have    given  wings  to  the 
winds,  and  darts  to  the  sun  ;  that  they  have  painted 
rivers  hastening  to  precipitate  themselves  into  the 
sea  ;  and  trees  that  reach  the  clouds,  to  overcome 
the  rays  of  the  sun  by  the  thickness  of  their  foHage  ? 
These  figures  have  been  adopted  even  in  common 
conversation  ;  so  natural  is  it  for  man  to  feel  the 
power  and  skill  with  which  the  universe  is  filled. 
Poetry  has  only  attributed  to  inanimate  things, 
the  design  of  the  Creator.     The  language  of  the 
poets  gave  rise  to  the  theology  of  the  pagans  ;  their 
theologians  were  poets.     They  imagined  a  power, 
a  wisdom  in  objects  the  most  entirely  destitute  of 
intelligence.     With    them   the   rivers  were  Gods, 
and  the  fountains  were  Naiads.     The  woods  and 
the  mountains  had  their  particular  divinities  :  the 
flowers   were   subject   to   Flora,  and   the  fruits  to 
Pomona.     The  more  enlarged  our  minds  are  when 
we  contemplate   nature,  the  more  we  discover  of 
that  inexhaustible  wisdom  which  is  the  soul  of  the 
universe.     Then  do  we  see   the   Infinite  Creator 
represented  in  all  his  works,  as  in  a  mirror,  to  the 
contemplation  of  his  intelligent  offspring.    But  some 
men  have  bewildered  themselves  with  their  own 
thoughts  ;  everything  with  them  turns  into  vanity. 
Through  sophistical  arguments  they  lose  sight  of 
that  truth,  which  nature  and  simplicity  would  teach 
them  without  tlic  aid  of  philosophy.     Others,  in- 
toxicated by  their  ])assions,  live  unconscious  of  the 
presence  of  God.     To  perceive  him  in  his  works, 


ON  THE  KNOWLEDGE  AND  LOVE  OF  GOD.      75 

we  at  least  ought  to  be  attentive.  Passion  not  only 
blinds  the  savage,  but  those  who  are  surrounded  by 
the  light  of  religion. 

It  is  thus  we  see  men  living  in  the  world,  think- 
ing only  of  what  gratifies  passion  and  vanity,  their 
souls  so  laden  with  the  weight  of  earth,  that  they 
cannot  raise  them  to  any  spiritual  object.  What- 
ever is  not  palpable,  cannot  be  seen,  or  heard,  or 
touched,  or  counted,  is  unreal  and  chimerical  to 
them.  This  weakness  of  the  mind  at  last  becomes 
incredulity,  and  appears  to  them  strength  ;  and  their 
vanity  leads  them  to  applaud  themselves  for  being 
able  to  resist  arguments  that  influence  the  rest  of 
the  world.  It  is  as  if  a  monster  should  boast  of 
not  being  formed  in  the  fashion  of  other  men  ;  or, 
as  if  a  blind  man  were  to  triumph  at  his  incredulity 
about  colors  that  other  men  perceive. 


ON   THE    KNOWLEDGE   AND    LOVE    OF   GOD. 

It  is  not  strange  that  men  do  so  little  for  the  ser- 
vice of  God,  and  that  the  little  they  do  costs  such 
an  effort ;  they  do  not  know  him  ;  they  hardly  be- 
lieve in  his  existence  ;  the  belief  which  they  have 
in  him,  is  rather  a  blind  deference  to  the  authority 
of  public  sentiment,  than  a  living,  distinct  convic- 
tion of  Deity.     They  take  it  for  granted  that  he 


76      ON  THE  KNOWLEDGE  AND  LOVE  OF  GOD. 

is,  because  they  dare  not  examine  for  themselves. 
There  is  upon  this  subject  a  vagueness  of  thought, 
an  indifference  which  grows  out  of  the  strength  of 
their  passions  for  other  objects.  They  know  God 
only  as  a  something  mysterious,  unintelligible,  and 
far  removed  from  us ;  they  regard  him  as  a  power- 
ful and  austere  being,  who  exacts  much  from  us, 
who  opposes  our  inclinations,  who  threatens  us 
with  great  evils,  and  against  whose  terrible  judg- 
ments we  ought  to  be  upon  our  guard.  These  are 
the  views  of  people  who  think  seriously  upon  re- 
ligion, but  even  this  is  a  small  number.  They  say 
of  such  a  person,  He  is  one  who  fears  God.  Truly 
he  only  fears  him ;  he  does  not  love  him ;  just  as 
a  child  fears  a  master  who  chastises  him,  or  as  a 
servant  who  dreads  the  blows  of  him  whom  he 
serves  only  from  fear.  Would  you  desire  the  ser- 
vice of  a  son  or  that  of  a  menial,  which  is  the  ser- 
vice rendered  to  God  ? 

It  is  because  they  do  not  know  God  ;  if  they 
knew  him  they  would  love  him.  God  is  love  ;  he 
who  does  not  love  him,  does  not  know  him ;  for 
how  can  we  know  love  without  loving.  We  must 
believe  then  that  he  who  only  fears  God  does  not 
know  him.  In  order  to  understand  this  subject 
better,  we  should  set  before  our  minds  the  truth 
that  God  who  has  made  all  things,  in  fact  creates 
us  anew  every  moment.  It  did  not  follow  neces- 
sarily that  because  we  were  yesterday,  we  should 
exist  to-day ;  we  might  cease  to  be,  we  might  re- 


ON  THE  KNOWLEDGE  AND  LOVE  OF  COD.      77 

lapse  into  the  nothingness  from  whence  we  came, 
if  the  same  all-powerful  hand  who  called  us  from 
it  did  not  still  sustain  us.  We  are  nothing  in  our- 
selves ;  we  are  only  what  God  has  made  us  to 
be,  and  that  only  while  it  pleases  him.  He  has 
only  to  withdraw  the  hand  which  supports  us  in 
order  to  replunge  us  into  the  abyss  of  our  nothing- 
ness, as  a  stone  which  one  holds  in  the  air  falls  from 
its  own  weight,  as  soon  as  the  hand  is  unclosed 
which  supported  it.  Thus  do  we  hold  existence 
only  as  the  continual  gift  of  God. 

Besides  this  there  are  other  blessings  far  purer 
and  of  a  higher  order.  A  good  life  is  better  than 
life  itself,  virtue  is  worth  more  than  health ;  upright- 
ness of  heart  and  the  love  of  God  are  more  above 
temporal  blessings  than  the  heavens  are  above  the 
earth.  If  then  we  are  incapable  of  retaining  for  a 
single  moment  gross  and  worthless  things  without 
the  help  of  God,  with  how  much  more  reason  must 
it  be  true  that  we  depend  upon  Him  for  the  other 
sublime  gifts  of  his  love. 

It  is  not  to  know  thee,  oh  God,  to  regard  thee 
only  as  an  all-powerful  being  who  gives  laws  to  all 
nature,  and  who  has  created  everything  which  we 
see,  it  is  only  to  know  a  part  of  thy  being,  it  is 
not  to  know  that  which  is  most  wonderful  and  most 
afiecting  to  thy  rational  offspring.  That  which 
transports  and  melts  my  soul  is  to  know  that  thou 
art  the  God  of  my  heart.  Thou  doest  there  thy 
good  pleasure. 
7* 


78      ON  THE  KNOWLEDGE  AND  LOVE  OF  GOD. 

Thou  art  ever  with  me.  When  I  do  wro»g,  re- 
proaching me  Math  the  evil  which  I  commit,  in- 
spiring me  with  regret  for  the  good  which  I  have 
forsaken,  and  with  outstretched  arms  offering  me 
pardon.  The  good  works  which  I  do,  they  are  thy 
gifts,  and  they  cease  to  be  good  works  as  soon  as 
I  regard  them  as  mine,  and  lose  sight  of  thy  bounty 
which  gives  them  their  true  value, 

I  call  to  my  mind  all  the  wonders  of  nature  that 
I  may  form  some  image  of  thy  glory.  I  ask  for 
knowledge  of  thee  from  thy  creatures,  and  I  forget 
to  seek  for  thee  in  the  depths  of  my  own  soul, 
where  thou  ever  art.  We  need  not  descend  into 
the  centre  of  the  earth  nor  go  beyond  the  seas,  we 
need  not  ascend  to  heaven  to  find  thee,  thou  art 
nearer  to  us  than  we  are  to  ourselves. 

Oh  God,  so  glorious  and  yet  so  intimately  with 
us,  so  high  above  these  heavens  and  yet  stooping 
to  the  lowliness  of  thy  creatures,  so  immense  and 
yet  dwelling  in  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  so  awful 
and  yet  so  worthy  of  love  !  When  will  thy  child- 
ren cease  to  be  ignorant  of  thee?  Oh,  for  a  voice 
loud  enough  to  reproach  the  world  with  its  blind- 
ness, and  to  declare  with  power  all  that  thou  art. 
When  we  bid  men  to  seek  thee  in  their  own  hearts, 
it  is  as  if  wo  were  to  propose  to  them  to  seek  for 
thee  in  some  undiscovered  parts  of  tlio  earth.  What 
is  there  to  a  vain  and  soisual  man,  more  foreign, 
more  remote  tlian  tlie  bottom  of  his  own  heart  ? 
Does  he  know  what  it  is  to  enter  into  himself? 


ON  THE  KNOWLEDGE  AND  LOVE  OF  GOD.      79 

Has  he  ever  sought  the  way  ?  Can  he  even  imagine 
what  is  this  inward  sanctuary,  these  impenetrable 
depths  of  the  soul,  where  thou  would  be  worshipped 
in  spirit  and  in  truth.  For  me,  my  Creator,  closing 
my  eyes  upon  outward  things  which  are  only  vanity 
and  vexation  of  spirit,  I  would  enjoy  in  the  recesses 
of  my  heart,  an  intimacy  with  thee  through  Jesus 
Christ  thy  son. 

Oh  God !  man  does  not  know  thee,  he  knows 
not  who  thou  art.  "  The  light  shines  in  the  midst 
of  the  darkness,  but  the  darkness  comprehendeth 
it  not."  It  is  through  thee  that  we  live,  that  we 
think,  that  we  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  life,  and  we 
forget  Him  from  whom  we  receive  all  these  things. 

Universal  Light !  it  is  through  thee  alone  that 
we  see  anything.  Sun  of  the  soul,  who  dost  shine 
more  brightly  than  the  material  sun  !  seeing  noth- 
ing except  through  thee,  we  see  not  thee  thyself. 
It  is  thou  who  givest  all  things,  to  the  stars  their 
light,  to  the  fountains  their  waters  and  their  courses, 
to  the  earth  its  plants,  to  the  fruits  their  flavor,  to 
all  nature  its  riches  and  its  beauty,  to  man,  health, 
reason,  virtue,  thou  givest  all,  thou  doest  all,  thou 
rulest  over  all ;  I  see  only  thee,  all  other  things 
vanish  as  a  shadow  before  him  who  has  once  seen 
thee.  But  alas !  he  who  has  not  seen  thee,  has 
seen  nothing,  he  has  passed  his  life  in  the  ilhision 
of  a  dream  ;  he  is  as  if  he  were  not,  more  unhappy 
still,  for  as  we  learn  from  thy  word,  it  were  better 
for  him  if  he  had  not  been  born. 


80      ON  THE  KNOWLEDGE  AND  LOVE  OF  GOD. 

For  myself  I  ever  find  thee  within  me.  It  is 
thou  who  workest  with  me  in  all  the  good  I  do. 
I  have  felt  a  thousand  times  that  I  could  not  of 
myself  conquer  my  passions,  overcome  my  habits, 
subdue  my  pride,  follow  my  reason,  or  continue  to 
will  what  I  have  once  Avilled.  It  is  thou  who 
gavest  me  this  will,  who  preservest  it  pure  ;  with- 
out thee  I  am  like  a  reed  agitated  by  the  wind. 
Thou  hast  given  me  courage,  uprightness,  and  all 
the  good  emotions  which  I  experience.  Thou  hast 
created  within  me  a  new  heart  which  desires  thy 
justice,  and  thirsts  for  thy  eternal  truth,  I  leave 
myself  in  thy  hands ;  it  is  enough  for  me  to  fulfil 
thy  all-beneficent  designs,  and  in  nothing  to  resist 
thy  good  pleasure,  for  which  I  was  created.  Com- 
mand, forbid,  what  wiliest  thou  that  I  should  do? 
What  that  I  should  not  do  ?  Lifted  up,  cast  down, 
comforted,  left  to  suffer,  employed  in  thy  service,  or 
useless  to  every  one,  I  still  adore  thee,  ever  yield- 
ing my  will,  I  say  with  Maiy,  "Be  it  unto  me 
according  to  thy  word," 

I  discover  every  where  in  the  smallest  things, 
that  omnipotent  hand  which  supports  the  heavens 
and  the  cartli,  and  which  seems  as  it  were  in 
sport  while  it  conducts  the  universe.  All  which 
troubles  me  is  that  I  cannot  comprehend  why  thou 
permittost  so  much  evil  to  mingle  with  the  good. 
Thou  canst  not  do  evil,  all  that  thou  docst  is  good. 
Whence  comes  it  then  that  the  earth  is  covered 
with  crimes  and  with  misery?     Evil  seems  to  pre- 


ON  THE  KNOWLEDGE  AND  LOVE  OF  GOD.      81 

vail  over  good.  Thou  hast  made  the  world  for  thy 
glory,  and  one  is  tempted  to  believe  that  it  has 
turned  to  thy  dishonor.  The  number  of  the  wicked 
infinitely  surpasses  the  number  of  the  good,  even 
within  thy  church.  Nearly  all  flesh  has  corrupted 
its  way ;  the  good  are  good  only  in  part,  and  give 
me  almost  as  much  pain  as  the  wicked ;  all  suffer, 
all  are  in  a  state  of  violence,  and  the  misery  is  equal 
to  the  corruption.  Why  delayest  thou,  oh  Lord,  to 
separate  the  good  from  the  evil  ?  Hasten  to  glorify 
thy  name  ;  teach  them  who  blaspheme  thee  how 
great  thou  art.  But  oh,  my  God,  how  deep  are  thy 
judgments  !  Thy  ways  are  higher  than  our  ways, 
as  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth.  We  are 
impatient  because  our  whole  life  is  but  a  moment ; 
but  thy  long  patience  rests  on  thy  eternity,  before 
which  a  thousand  years  are  but  as  yesterday  when 
it  is  passed.  I  would,  oh  God,  check  all  reasonings 
which  tempt  me  to  doubt  of  thy  goodness.  I  know 
that  thou  art  always  good.  I  know  that  thou  hast 
made  thy  creatures  in  thine  own  image,  upright,  just, 
and  good  as  thou  art  thyself;  but  thou  hast  not 
willed  to  deprive  them  of  the  power  of  choosing 
between  good  and  evil.  Thou  oflerest  to  them 
what  is  good ;  this  is  enough  ;  I  am  sure  of  it 
although  I  do  not  comprehend  how  it  is;  but  the 
immutable  and  perfect  idea  I  have  of  thee  forbids 
me  to  doubt  of  it.  Oh,  my  God,  may  I  ever  be 
one  of  those  little  ones  to  whom  thou  revealest  thy 
mysteries  whilst  thou  hidest  them  from  the  wise 
and  prudent  of  the  world. 


82      ON  THE  KNOWLEDGE  AND  LOVE  OF  GOD. 

Everything  wliich  happens  to  us  comes  from 
thee,  oh  God.  It  is  thou  who  hast  done  it ;  and 
who  hast  done  it  for  our  eternal  welfare.  In  the 
light  of  eternity  we  shall  see  that  what  we  desired 
would  have  been  fatal  to  us,  and  that  what  we 
would  have  avoided  was  essential  to  our  well  being  ; 
it  is  thou  who  doest  all  things ;  it  is  thou  who 
during  every  moment  of  our  lives  art  the  life  of  our 
hearts,  the  hght  of  our  eyes,  the  intelligence  of  our 
minds,  the  soul  of  our  souls ;  all  that  we  are,  life, 
action,  thought,  will,  we  are  through  thy  power, 
thy  spirit,  and  thy  eternal  will. 

It  is  thou  who  hurriest  to  the  tomb  those  to 
whom  life  is  a  continual  snare,  and  to  whom  death, 
which  has  put  them  in  safety,  was  a  mercy.  It  is 
thou  who  hast  made  this  death  a  bitter  but  salutary 
retnedy  to  the  friends  who  were  bound  to  them  by 
a  too  ardent,  a  too  tender  love  ;  thus  the  same  stroke 
which  is  intended  to  save  the  one  by  death,  detaches 
the  other  from  life,  who  is  thus  prepared  for  death 
by  him  who  had  been  the  dearest  in  life  to  him. 
Thou  dost  thus  most  mercifully,  oh  God,  mingle 
bitterness  with  all  which  is  not  from  thyself,  that 
our  hearts  formed  to  love  thee,  and  live  in  thy  love 
may  be  constrained  to  return  to  thee,  feeling  that 
all  other  support  fails  us. 

It  is,  my  God,  because  thou  art  all  love,  that  thou 
art  a  jealous  God  ;  a  divided  heart  displeases  thee, 
a  wandering  heart  excites  thy  pity.  Thou  art  infi- 
nite in  all  things,  in  love  as  in  wisdom  and  power; 


ON  THE  KNOWLEDGE  AND  LOVE  OF  GOD.      83 

an  imperfect  love,  and  a  limited  wisdom  cannot 
know  thee.  Can  the  finite  comprehend  the  Infi- 
nite ?  It  is  this  love  which  ordains  all  things,  even 
the  evils  which  we  endure ;  it  is  through  suffering 
that  we  are  prepared  for  true  happiness. 

When  shall  we  return  love  for  love  ?  When 
shall  we  turn  toward  him  who  is  ever  seeking  us  ? 
and  whose  arms  are  ever  around  us.  It  is  while 
resting  on  his  paternal  bosom  that  we  forget  him. 
The  sweetness  of  his  gifts  makes  us  forget  the  giver. 
Blessings  which  we  daily  receive,  instead  of  soften- 
ing our  hearts  turn  them  away  from  him  who  gave 
them.  He  is  the  source  of  all  true  pleasures.  His 
creatures  are  only  the  gross  channels  through  which 
they  flow  to  us,  and  the  stream  has  made  us  forget 
the  Fountain  Head.  This  infinite  love  follows  us 
everywhere,  and  we  are  ever  trying  to  escape  from 
it ;  it  is  in  all  places  and  we  see  it  nowhere.  We 
call  ourselves  alone  when  we  have  only  God  with 
us ;  He  does  all  things  and  we  trust  in  him  for 
nothing.  We  think  our  hopes  are  desperate  when 
we  have  no  other  resource  than  his  Providence, 
as  if  infinite  and  all  powerful  love  could  not  do  all 
things. 


84 


ON    PIETY. 


ON  piety- 


How  unspeakable  are  the  blessings  that  piety 
bestows  ;  pure,  disinterested  piety,  piety  that  never 
fails,  that  does  good  in  secret  !  It  enables  us  to  con- 
quer our  passions  and  our  bad  habits  ;  it  destroys  our 
love  of  the  polluting  pleasures  of  the  world ;  it 
touches  our  hearts  with  the  salutary  truths  of  reli- 
gion. It  protects  us  from  the  fatal  snares  that  are 
around  us.  Shall  we  be  ungrateful  for  so  many 
benefits  ?  Shall  we  not  have  the  courage  to  sacri- 
fice to  piety  all  our  irregular  desires,  however  it 
may  wound  our  self-love  ? 

Let  us  examine  ourselves,  as  in  the  presence  of 
God,  and  see  if  such  be  our  piety,  and  let  us  view 
the  subject  as  it  relates  to  God,  to  ourselves,  and  to 
our  neighbor.  These  three  relations  will  guide  us 
in  the  following  discourse. 

I.  Are  we  willing  to  suffer  for  God  ?  Does  our 
desire  to  be  with  him  destroy  our  fear  of  death  ? 
Do  we  love  to  think  of  God?  Do  we  give  our- 
selves up  to  him  ?  It  is  by  asking  ourselves  these 
questions,  that  we  shall  ascertain  the  true  state  of 
our  souls. 

1.  Arc  we  wiUing  to  suffer  for  God  ?  I  do  not 
speak  of  a  certain  vague  love  of  suflcring,  that 
shows  itself  in  words  and  fails  in  actions ;  of  a 
willingness  to  suffer,  that  consists  only  in  a  habit 


ON    PIETY.  85 

of  talking  magnificently  and  eloquently  of  the  use 
of  crosses,  and  that  shrinks  from  the  slightest  per- 
sonal inconvenience,  and  indulges  in  all  the  seduc- 
tive pleasures  of  a  sensual  life.  .Neither  do  I  mean 
a  certain  fanciful  spirituality,  that  is  ever  meditating 
upon  resignation,  patience,  and  the  joy  of  tribula- 
tion, while  the  whole  life  discovers  a  jealous  self- 
love,  unwilling  to  suffer  anything.  True  piety  is 
not  satisfied  with  offering  to  God  a  sterile  faith  ;  it 
would  add  the  sacrifice  of  an  humble  heart,  glad  to 
suffer  for  him. 

In  vain  will  you  attempt  to  follow  Jesus,  if  you 
do  not  bear  his  cross.  Dare  you,  can  you  complain 
when  you  have  his  example  to  support  you  ?  Will 
not  the  faithful  soul  rejoice  to  suffer  in  imitation  of 
Jesus,  and  to  show  his  love  for  him,  with  the  hope 
of  meriting  the  blessing  that  he  has  promised  to 
those  who  weep?  If  I  were  seriously  persuaded 
that  the  life  of  a  Christian  is  a  life  of  patience  and 
self-denial,  if  in  sincerit}^  and  truth  I  loved  Jesus 
Christ,  who  suffered  and  humbled  himself  for  me, 
should  I  be  contented  with  talking  of  trials  when  I 
am  called  upon  to  bear  them,  with  giving  lessons 
to  my  neighbor  and  not  applying  them  to  myself? 
Should  I  be  so  impatient  with  the  infirmities  of 
others,  so  discouraged  by  obstacles,  so  disquieted  by 
little  troubles,  so  sensitive  about  human  friendship, 
so  jealous  and  intractable  towards  those  whom  I 
ought  to  conciliate,  so  severe  towards  the  faults  of 
others,  so  lenient  and  so  backward  in  mending  my 
8 


86  ON    PIETY. 

own  ?  Should  I  be  so  ready  to  murmur  at  the  trials 
by  which  God  would  prove  my  virtue  ? 

It  is  a  scandal  that  might  make  the  pious  weep, 
to  see  men,  who  profess  to  be  followers  of  Christ 
crucified,  shrinking  from  sufferings  and  trials  ;  men, 
who  would  serve  God  with  all  possible  convenience, 
who  pretend  to  sigh  after  another  life,  while  they 
are  clinging  to  all  the  delights  of  this,  who  de- 
claim with  zeal  against  self-love,  while  they  take  all 
imaginable  precautions  to  save  their  own  from  the 
least  mortification. 

2.  Are  we  willing  to  die  to  be  with  Christ  ?  St. 
Augustin  says,  that  holiness  of  life  and  willingness 
to  die  are  inseparable  dispositions.  "  The  love  of 
this  life  and  of  another,"  says  he,  "  cause  an  inces- 
sant conflict  in  the  imperfect  soul.  Let  not  such 
persons  say  they  wish  to  live,  in  order  to  repair  the 
past :  if  they  examine  their  hearts,  they  will  find 
that  they  cling  to  life,  because  they  are  not  suffi- 
ciently virtuous  to  desire  the  pure  joys  of  heaven." 
If  we  only  feared  the  judgments  of  God  upon  our 
entrance  into  eternity,  tliis  fear  would  be  calm  and 
holy.  The  perfection  of  our  love  to  God  consists 
in  our  feeling  an  entire  confidence  in  him.  If  we 
loved  jiim  as  our  father,  should  we  fear  him  as  our 
judge?  Should  we  fly  from  his  presence,  should 
we  tremble  thus,  when  sickness  warns  us  of  the 
approach  of  death  ? 

But  there  is  a  secret  infidelity  at  the  bottom  of 
our  hearts,  that  stifles  all   these   sentiments.     We 


ON    PIETY.  87 

weep  at  the  death  of  those  we  love,  and  we  trem- 
ble at  onr  own,  as  they  who  have  no  hope.  Judging 
from  our  anxiety  about  this  life,  who  would  believe 
that  we  anticipated  a  happy  futurity  ?  How  can 
they  to  whom  religion  has  opened  the  path  to 
another  life,  they  whose  hope  is  full  of  immortality, 
how  can  they  reconcile  such  substantial  and  glori- 
ous hopes  with  the  vain  enjoyments  that  fill  their 
hearts  in  this  world  ?  Our  piety  must  be  weak  and 
imperfect,  if  it  do  not  conquer  our  fear  of  death. 
We  must  take  a  very  confused  and  superficial  view 
of  the  eternal  resources  of  the  Christian  at  the  hour 
of  death,  and  of  all  that  he  hopes  for  beyond  this 
transient  life,  if  our  hearts  do  not  kindle  with  joy 
at  the  contemplation  of  the  moment  when  our  sor- 
rows shall  pass  away  and  our  felicity  begin. 

Let  us  each  ask  himself,  Am  I  ready  to  die? 
Let  me  not  deceive  myself  by  a  false  courage. 
Does  the  ardor  of  my  love  for  God  overcome  my 
fear  of  death  ?  Do  I  use  this  world  as  not  abusing 
it  ?  Do  I  regard  it  as  a  passing  shadow  ?  Am  I 
unwilling  to  be  subjected  to  its  vanities  ?  Is  there 
nothing  here  that  flatters  my  self-love  and  enslaves 
my  affections,  making  me  almost  forget  eternity  ? 
In  fine,  am  I  every  day  preparing  for  death  ?  Is  it 
by  this  thought  that  I  regulate  my  life  ?  And  when 
the  last  hour  shall  arrive,  shall  I  be  prepared  for 
the  fatal  stroke  ?  Shall  I  not  shrink  from  its  ap- 
proach ?  What  will  become  of  my  courage  when 
I  shall  feel  myself  between  this  world  that  is  fast 


88  ON    PIETV. 

vanishing  from  my  sight,  and  eternity  that  is  open- 
ing to  receive  me  ?  Whence  is  it  that  those  who 
profess  not  to  be  lovers  of  Ufe  do  not  fear  death 
less  than  others  ? 

3.  Do  we  enjoy  the  contemplation  of  God  ?  Do 
we  feel  a  sincere  joy  when  we  pray  to  him,  and 
when  we  meditate  upon  his  presence  ?  Prayer, 
says  St.  Augustin,  is  the  measure  of  love.  He 
who  loves  much,  prays  much.  He  whose  heart  is 
closely  united  to  God,  has  no  sweeter  consolation 
than  in  communion  with  him.  He  finds  a  positive 
happiness  in  being  able  to  love  him,  to  speak  to 
him,  to  meditate  upon  his  attributes,  to  adore  his 
majesty,  to  admire  his  power,  to  dwell  on  his  good- 
ness, and  to  yield  himself  up  to  his  providence. 
In  this  intercourse  he  pours  out,  as  into  the  bosom 
of  a  tender  father,  all  the  sorrows  of  his  overflowing 
heart ;  this  is  his  resource  under  every  affliction ; 
he  finds  strength  and  consolation  in  spreading  out 
all  his  weaknesses  and  all  his  desires ;  and  as  our 
whole  lives  are  full  of  imperfections,  as  we  are 
never  free  from  sin,  we  should  always,  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  prayer,  ask  pardon  of  God  for  our  ingrati- 
tude and  thank  him  for  his  mercy. 

Let  us  pray  then,  but  let  us  pray  with  all  our 
duties  before  us.  Do  not  let  us  make  eloquent  and 
abstract  prayers  that  have  no  connexion  with  the 
practice  of  virtue,  but  let  us  pray  to  become  more 
liumble,  more  docile,  more  patient,  more  charitable, 
more  modest,  more  pure,  more  disinterested  in  the 


ON    PIETY. 


89 


performance  of  our  duties.  Without  this,  our  prayer 
will  be  ail  ilhision  to  ourselves,  and  a  scaudal  to 
our  neighbor :  an  ilhision  to  ourselves,  for  how 
often  do  we  see  a  devotion  that  only  nourishes 
pride  and  misleads  the  imagination ;  and  a  scandal 
to  our  neighbor,  for  there  can  be  none  greater  than 
to  see  a  person  who  prays  unceasingly  without 
correcting  his  faults,  who  comes  from  his  orisons 
neither  less  frivolous,  nor  less  discontented  and 
anxious,  nor  less  selfish  than  he  was  before. 

4.  Are  we  resolved  to  give  ourselves  up  without 
reserve  to  God  ? 

Do  we  consider  his  protecting  providence  our 
best  resource,  or  have  we  concerning  our  own 
affairs  a  timid  anxiety,  that  renders  us  unworthy 
of  his  care  ? 

The  disposition  essential  to  the  soul  that  con- 
secrates itself  to  God,  is  to  desire  nothing  but  in 
reference  to  his  will.  Whence  comes  it  that  so 
many  good  people  undertake  good  Avorks  without 
any  success  ?  It  is  because  they  commence  them 
without  any  sincere  trust  in  God,  and  without  a 
complete  renunciation  of  self.  The  thought  of 
self  is  never  entirely  excluded. 

They  do  not  prefer  the  interest  of  the  work 
which  is  God's  to  their  own  ill-regulated  ill  incli- 
nations and  perverse  fancies,  to  a  weak  jealousy  of 
authority  and  a  desire  of  consideration  that  con- 
taminates the  best  things.  In  fine,  it  is  because 
they  wish  to  serve  God,  Avith  a  security  of  benefiting 
8* 


90  ON    PIETY. 

themselves  ;  they  are  not  willing  to  risk  their  own 
glory,  and  they  would  be  very  unhappy  if  they 
were  exposed  to  any  misapprehension  through  their 
love  for  him.  Can  we  expect  from  these  cowardly 
and  mercenary  souls,  the  magnanimity  and  the 
strength  that  is  requisite  to  promote  the  designs  of 
Providence  ?  He  who  distrusts  God,  is  not  worthy 
to  be  his  instrument.  God,  as  St.  Paul  says,  "  over 
all  is  rich,"  but  it  is  unto  all  who  call  upon  him 
and  trust  in  him. 

But  we  will  proceed  to  the  second  part  of  this 
discourse  :  What  are  our  dispositions  with  regard 
to  ourselves  ? 

II.  Let  us  examine  ourselves  upon  these  four 
questions.  Whether  our  zeal  be  not  imprudence 
under  the  pretext  of  religion  ?  Our  prudence,  is  it 
not  earthly-mindedness  ?  Our  devotion,  is  it  not 
the  effect  of  natural  temperament  ?  Our  charity, 
is  it  not  an  amusement  ? 

1.  Is  not  our  zeal  imprudence  ?  Let  every  root 
of  bitterness,  said  St.  Paul,  be  put  away  from  you. 
There  is  a  violent  zeal  that  we  must  correct ;  it 
thinks  it  can  change  the  whole  world,  it  would 
reform  everything,  it  would  subject  every  one  to 
its  laws.  Tiie  origin  of  this  zeal  is  disgraceful. 
The  defects  of  our  neighbor  interfere  with  our 
own ;  our  vanity  is  wounded  by  that  of  another ; 
our  own  haughtiness  fmds  our  neighbor's  ridiculous 
and  insui)])ortal)lc  ;  our  restlessness  is  rebuked  by 
the  sluggishness  and  indolence  of  this  person  ,\oiiir 


ON    PIETY. 


91 


gloom  is  disturbed  by  the  gayety  and  frivolities  of 
that  person,  and  our  heedlessness  by  the  shrewd- 
ness and  address  of  another. 

If  we  were  faultless,  we  should  not  be  so  much 
annoyed  by  the  defects  of  those  with  whom  we 
associate.  If  we  were  to  acknowledge  honestly 
that  we  have  not  virtue  enough  to  bear  patiently 
with  our  neighbor's  weaknesses,  we  should  show 
our  own  imperfection,  and  this  alarms  our  vanity. 
.We  therefore  make  our  weakness  pass  for  strength, 
elevate  it  to  a  virtue  and  call  it  zeal ;  an  imaginary 
and  often  hypocritical  zeal.  For  is  it  not  surprising 
to  see  how  tranquil  we  are  about  the  errors  of 
others  when  they  do  not  trouble  us,  and  how  soon 
this  wonderful  zeal  kindles  against  those  who  excite 
our  jealousy,  or  weary  our  patience  ? 

If  our  zeal  be  true,  it  will  be  regulated  by 
Christianity,  it  will  begin  with  ourselves  ;  it  will  be 
so  occupied  with  our  own  defects,  our  own  wants, 
that  it  will  find  but  little  time  to  think  of  those  of 
others :  and  when  conscience  obliges  us  to  correct 
our  neighbor,  we  shall  be  very  cautious  with  re- 
gard to  ourselves,  following  the  advice  of  the  apos- 
tle, "  Rebuke  thy  brother  in  the  spirit  of  meekness, 
considering  thyself,  lest  thou  also  be  tempted." 
Whatever  is  said  or  done  with  passion  will  not  make 
our  neighbor  better. 

Where  do  we  see  any  good  elTects  from  harsh 
reproof?  We  must  gain  the  heart  when  we  Avould 
recommend  religion;  and  hearts  are  won  only  by 


92  ON    PIETY. 

love  and  condescension.  It  is  not  enough  to  be 
right,  it  is  dishonoring  reason  to  defend  it  with  vio- 
lence and  haughtiness.  It  is  by  gentleness,  by  pa- 
tience, by  love,  that  we  insensibly  lead  the  mind 
to  truth,  undermine  old  prejudices,  inspire  confi- 
dence, and  encourage  one  to  conquer  bad  habits. 
When  he  who  receives  correction  perceives  that 
reproof  is  given  with  ill  humor,  his  own  is  not 
subdued  by  it,  and  his  self-love  revolts  at  the  mor- 
tifying lesson.  For  "  the  wrath  of  man  worketh 
not  the  righteousness  of  God." 

2.  Our  prudence  —  is  it  not  an  earthly  policy,  a 
blind  prudence  which  the  apostle  says,  "is  death," 
and  is  not  subject  to  the  law  of  God  ?  There  is  an 
absolute  incompatibility  between  this  sort  of  worldly 
wisdom  and  that  of  the  true  children  of  God.  How 
many  good  works  do  we  see  arrested  by  considera- 
tions of  mere  earthly  prudence  !  How  many  sacred 
duties  are  yielded  to  the  imaginary  claims  of  polite- 
ness !  Formerly,  Christians  despised  the  undeserved 
contempt  of  the  world  ;  now,  they  fear  its  judg- 
ments and  seek  for  its  favor,  they  regulate  their 
conduct  by  its  whimsical  prejudices,  they  consult 
it  even  on  subjects  the  most  holy  ;  not  merely  that 
they  may  avoid  scandal,  which  is  right,  but  they 
try  to  accommodate  themselves  to  its  vain  maxims, 
and  allow  their  good  works  to  depend  upon  its 
decision. 

What  pains  do  avc  take  to  acquire  consideration 
and  confidence,  what  anxiety,  what  eagerness  for 


ON    PIETV.  93 

reputation  !  When  we  serve  God  thus,  we  serve 
him  feebly.  Our  hearts  are  divided  between  him 
and  a  thousand  objects  unworthy  of  being  remem- 
bered before  liim.  We  seek  the  glory  of  God,  we 
really  desire  it,  but  it  is  upon  certain  conditions 
which  destroy  our  best  purposes.  ''  We  carry," 
says  St.  Augustin,  "a  languid  will  to  the  practice 
of  virtue,  and  thus  our  minds  are  flattered,  while 
our  hearts  are  not  changed." 

Who  is  there  among  us  who  desires  perfection 
as  it  ought  to  be  desired,  more  than  pleasure,  more 
than  reputation?  Who  is  willing  to  sacrifice  to  it 
all  that  is  incompatible  with  it  ?  Henceforward, 
let  our  prudence  be  regulated  by  the  spirit  of  God  : 
let  it  not  be  an  earthly-minded  prudence  ;  let  us 
be  prudent  that  we  may  do  good ;  let  us  be  full  of 
charity  towards  our  neighbor,  but  of  distrust  con- 
cerning ourselves.  Let  us  be  prudent,  but  let  our 
prudence  tend  to  promote  the  glory  of  God,  to  show 
the  true  dignity  of  religion,  and  to  make  us  forget 
ourselves. 

3.  Our  devotion  —  is  it  not  the  effect  of  tem- 
perament ?  The  apostle,  predicting  the  misfortunes 
with  which  religion  was  menaced,  said,  "  men  shall 
be  lovers  of  their  own  selves."  This  is  what  we 
see  every  day;  men  quit  the  amusements  of  social 
life,  live  in  retirement  and  with  strict  regularity,  but 
it  is  because  their  temperament  is  harsh,  and  they 
prefer  solitude.  Others  are  modest  and  gentle,  but 
this  is  the  effect  of  weakness  and  indolence  rather 


94  ON    PIETY. 

than  virtue.  There  is  but  one  gospel,  yet  each 
one  adapts  it  to  his  own  peculiar  inclinations.  We 
are  commanded  to  do  violence  to  our  inclinations, 
instead  of  which  we  see  people  forcing  religion  to 
their  own  interests.  I  know  that  the  grace  of  God 
takes  various  forms  in  different  minds ;  but,  after 
all,  the  essentials  of  religion  are  the  same,  and 
although  there  are  many  ways  of  going  to  God, 
they  all  meet  at  one  point,  they  all  bind  us  to  the 
obedience  of  the  same  law,  and  hold  us  in  an  en- 
tire union  of  sentiment  and  practice. 

Yet  where  do  we  see  this  admirable  conformity  ; 
Everywhere  we  see  men  who  disfigure  religion  by 
vain  attempts  to  make  it  accord  with  their  own 
caprices.  One  is  fervent  in  prayer,  but  he  is  in- 
sensible to  the  miseries  and  weaknesses  of  his 
neighbor.  Another  talks  much  of  the  love  of  God, 
and  of  self-sacrifice,  whilst  he  is  not  willing  to 
suffer  the  least  contradiction.  Another  deprives 
himself  of  allowed  pleasures,  that  he  may  indulge 
himself  in  those  that  are  forbidden. 

This  woman  is  fervent  and  scrupulous  in  works 
of  supererogation,  but  faithless  in  the  most  com- 
mon and  positive  duties ;  she  fasts  and  prays,  but 
she  docs  not  restrain  her  pride  or  the  violence  of 
her  temper.  Thus  we  see  people  who  think,  be- 
cause they  do  what  they  are  not  commanded  to  do, 
that  they  may  dispense  with  what  is  required. 

Far  better  is  that  simple  obedience  that  finds 
the  rule  of  life  in  the  gospel,  and  follows  it,  with- 


ON    PIETY.  95 

out  any  of  those  extravagances  that  disturb  its  calm 
and  celestial  features.  Place  each  virtue  in  its 
proper'  rank.  Practise,  according  to  the  measure 
of  your  gifts,  the  most  difficult  virtues  ;  but  do  not 
practise  them  at  the  expense  of  others.  Charity 
and  justice  are  the  first  of  the  virtues  ;  why  cherish 
one  at  the  expense  of  the  other  ?  Be  strict,  even 
austere,  if  you  will  ;  but  be  humble.  Be  very 
zealous  for  the  reformation  of  abuses ;  but  be  gen- 
tle, charitable',  and  compassionate.  Do,  for  the 
glory  of  God,  all  that  your  love  for  him  prompts, 
but  begin  with  the  performance  of  all  the  duties 
of  the  situation  in  which  you  are  placed.  With- 
out this  your  virtues  are  only  whims  and  fancies, 
and  instead  of  glorifying  God,  you  are  a  subject 
for  the  scandal  of  the  world. 

4.  Our  charity  —  is  it  not  an  amusement  ?  Our 
friendships  —  are  they  not  vain  and  ill-regulated  ? 
Is  not  St.  Chrysostom  right  in  saying,  that  we  are 
more  faithless  to  God  in  our  friendships  than  even 
in  our  enmities  ?  For,  says  he,  there  is  a  terrible 
law  against  him  who  hates  his  neighbor,  and  when 
we  discover  in  ourselves  the  feelings  of  hatred  and 
vengeance,  we  are  shocked  and  make  haste  to  be 
reconciled  to  our  brother.  But  it  is  not  so  with 
our  friendships.  It  seems  so  innocent,  so  natural, 
so  conformable  to  charity,  to  love  our  brethren, 
that  religion  seems  to  authorize  it,  and  thus  we  are 
not  enough  on  our  guard  in  forming  our  friendships, 
and  they  arc  often  the  result  of  whim  or  a  blind 
prejudice. 


96  ON   PIETY, 

Let  us  give  everything  its  proper  place  in  our 
hearts.  Are  our  friendships  regulated  by  religion  ? 
Do  we  love  more  than  others,  those  friends,  whom 
we  can  carry  in  onr  thoughts  to  God,  and  who  can 
themselves  lead  us  to  him  ?  Do  we  seek  such  with 
a  real  pleasure  ?  Alas,  how  frivolous  are  our 
friendships  !  What  loss  of  time  in  expressing  feel- 
ings that  often  do  not  exist  !  How  many  useless 
or  dangerous  confessions  !  How  many  unjust  pre- 
ferences destroying  the  confiding  affection  and 
harmony  of  families ! 

I  know  that  we  are  permitted  to  love  those  with 
more  tenderness  who  possess  distiuguished  excel- 
lence, and  those  who  are  bound  to  us  by  the  ties 
of  nature  and  sympathy  ;  but  we  must  be  sober 
and  moderate  even  in  these  friendships ;  let  them 
dwell  in  the  very  bottom  of  our  hearts,  but  there 
let  them  be  controlled  by  a  calm  discretion,  and  be 
ever  kept  in  subjection  by  the  general  law  of  charity. 
Let  them  be  outwardly  expressed  only  so  far  as  is 
necessary  to  show  esteem,  and  the  cordiality  and 
gratitude  that  we  ought  to  manifest.  We  never 
should  allow  those  movements  of  tenderness  to 
escape  us,  or  indulge  in  those  familiar  caresses  and 
expressions  of  partiality,  which  may  wound  others. 
The  most  holy  friendships  should  be  restrained 
within  these  bounds. 

HI.  In  the  regulation  of  our  conduct  towards  our 
neighbor,  we  are  called  upon  to  be  gentle  and  hum- 
ble, to  act  and  to  sulfer. 


ON   PIETY.  97 

1.  To  be  gentle  and  humble.  The  foundation 
of  peace  with  all  men  is  humility.  God  resists  the 
proud,  but  gives  grace  to  the  humble.  It  is  essen- 
tial to  men  in  their  mutual  intercourse  to  cultivate 
humility  ;  pride  is  incompatible  with  pride  ;  hence 
arise  divisions  in  the  world. 

Humility  is  still  more  necessary  where  we  would 
promote  the  designs  of  God,  which  are  to  be  sup- 
ported only  by  the  same  spirit  which  the  son  of  God 
has  himself  chosen  for  the  execution  of  his  great 
work,  the  establishment  of  religion.  We  must  be 
ready  to  perform  the  most  menial  offices  ;  we  should 
not  desire  any  distinction  ;  we  should  be  sincerely 
contented  with  obscurity,  and  be  willing  to  be 
forgotten  by  the  world.  We  should  esteem  such  a 
situation  as  a  happy  asylum.  We  should  renounce 
in  our  hearts  all  desire  of  reputation  for  understand- 
ing, or  for  virtue,  which  might  awaken  a  secret 
self-complacency,  and  be  a  low  and  unworthy 
recompense  for  any  sacrifices  we  may  have  made 
to  the  will  of  God.  We  should  be  able  to  say 
from  our  retreat  what  the  Prophet  King  said  in 
the  midst  of  his  triumph,  "  I  will  humble  myself 
yet  more  in  my  own  eyes,  that  I  may  please  thee, 
O  my  God!  " 

We  must  stifle  all  rising  jealousies,  all  little  con- 
trivances to  promote  our  own  glory,  vain  desires  to 
please,  or  to  succeed,  or  to  be  praised,  the  fear  of 
seeing  others  preferred  to  ourselves,  the  anxiety  to 
have  our  plans  carried  into  effect,  the  natural  love 
9 


98  ON    PIETY. 

of  dominion,  and  desire  to  influence  others.  These 
rules  are  soon  given,  but  it  is  not  so  easy  to  observe 
them.  Our  natures  must  be  subdued  by  the  grace 
of  God  in  our  hearts,  before  we  can  at  all  times  act 
with  such  simplicity  and  humility.  With  some 
people  not  only  pride  and  hauteur  render  these 
duties  very  difficult,  but  great  natural  sensitiveness 
makes  the  practice  of  them  nearly  impossible,  and 
instead  of  respecting  their  neighbor  with  a  true 
feeling  of  humility,  all  their  charity  amounts  only 
to  a  sort  of  compassionate  toleration  that  nearly 
resembles  contempt. 

2.  We  must  act.  During  the  short  and  precious 
time  that  is  allowed  us  on  earth,  let  us  hasten  to 
employ  ourselves.  While  it  remains  to  us,  let  us 
not  fail  to  consecrate  it  to  good  works.  For  when 
everything  else  shall  have  vanished  forever,  the 
Avorks  of  the  just  will  follow  them,  even  beyond 
this  life  ;  for  it  is  certain,  according  to  the  beautiful 
language  of  St.  Paul,  "  we  have  been  created  in 
Jesus  Christ  unto  good  works,  that  we  should  walk 
in  them  ;"  that  is  to  say,  pass  our  whole  lives  in 
this  happy  employment. 

Let  us  then  do  good,  according  to  the  means 
which  God  has  given  us,  with  discretion,  with 
courage,  and  with  perseverance.  With  discretion  ; 
because,  while  charity  extends  its  efi'orts  for  the 
glory  of  God,  it  also  regulates  its  exertions  by  the 
nature  of  the  work,  and  l)y  tlic  condition  of  him 
who  undertakes  it ;    it  avoids  disproportionate  de- 


ON    PIETV.  99 

signs.  With  courage  ;  for  St.  Paul  exhorts  us 
not  to  become  weary  in  well  doing.  With  perse- 
verance ;  for  we  often  see  weak  and  yielding  spirits, 
who  very  soon  begin  to  turn  back  in  their  course. 

We  shall  find  occasions  to  do  good  everywhere  ; 
they  surround  us ;  it  is  the  will  that  is  needed. 
The  deepest  solitudes,  when  we  seem  to  have  the 
least  communication  with  others,  will  furnish  us 
with  means  of  doing  good  to  our  fellow-beings, 
and  of  glorifying  Him  who  is  their  master  and  ours. 

Finally,  we  must  suffer  ]  and  I  shall  finish  this 
discourse  with  one  of  the  most  important  truths 
with  which  T  commenced  it.  Yes,  we  must  suffer 
not  only  in  submission  to  the  will  of  Providence, 
for  the  purification  of  our  souls,  and  the  perfection 
of  our  virtues,  but  often  for  the  success  of  those 
designs  of  which  God  has  made  us  the  instruments. 
Whoever  desires  to  do  good  must  be  willing  and 
must  expect  to  suffer.  You  must  arm  yourselves 
with  courage  and  patience.  You  must  be  willing 
to  endure  tribulations  and  trials  of  all  sorts,  which 
would  overwhelm  you  if  you  were  not  supported 
by  well-established  faith  and  charity. 

The  world  will  blame,  will  tempt  you ;  your 
friends  and  your  enemies  may  appear  to  combine 
against  your  good  designs.  Those  even  with 
whom  you  are  united  to  promote  a  good  work  may 
be  a  snare  to  you.  Opposite  humors  and  temper- 
aments, different  views,  contrary  habits,  may  cause 
you  great  suffering  from  those  upon  whom  you  have 


100  ON    PRAYER. 

depended  for  support  and  consolation.  Their  defects 
and  yours  will  perpetually  clash  in  your  intercourse 
with  them.  If  true  charity  does  not  soften  these 
difficulties,  if  a  more  than  common  virtue  does  not 
sustain  you  under  these  bitter  trials  ;  if  an  unfailing 
and  fervent  piety  does  not  render  this  yoke  easy  to 
you,  you  will  sink  under  it. 


ON  PRAYER. 


Of  all  the  duties  enjoined  by  Christianity,  none 
is  more  essential,  and  yet  more  neglected,  than 
prayer.  Most  people  consider  this  exercise  a  fatigu- 
ing ceremony,  which  they  are  justified  in  abridging 
as  much  as  possible.  Even  those,  whose  profession 
or  fears  lead  them  to  pray,  pray  with  such  languor 
and  wandering  of  mind,  that  their  prayers,  far  from 
drawing  down  blessings,  only  increase  their  con- 
demnation. I  wish  to  demonstrate,  in  this  discourse, 
first,  the  general  necessity  of  prayer  ;  secondly,  the 
peculiar  duty  of  prayer ;  thirdly,  the  manner  in 
which  we  ought  to  pray. 

Pirst.  God  alone  can  instruct  us  in  our  duty. 
The  teachings  of  men,  however  wise  and  well  dis- 
posed they  may  be,  are  still  ineffectual,  if  God  do 
not  shed  on  the  soul  that  light  which  opens  the 
mind  to  truth.     The  imperfections  of  our  fellow- 


ON    PRAYER.  101 

creatures  cast  a  shade  over  the  truths  that  we  learn 
from  them.  Such  is  our  weakness,  that  we  do  not 
receive,  with  sufficient  docility,  the  instructions  of 
those  who  are  as  imperfect  as  ourselves.  A  thousand 
suspicions,  jealousies,  fears,  and  prejudices  prevent 
us  from  profiting,  as  we  might,  by  what  we  hear 
from  men ;  and  though  they  announce  the  most 
serious  truths,  yet  what  they  do  weakens  the  effect 
of  what  they  say.  In  a  word,  it  is  God  alone  who 
can  perfectly  teach  us. 

St.  Bernard  said,  in  writing  to  a  pious  friend, — 
If  you  are  seeking  less  to  satisfy  a  vain  curiosity 
than  to  get  true  wisdom,  you  will  sooner  find  it  in 
deserts  than  in  books.  The  silence  of  the  rocks 
and  the  pathless  forests  will  teach  you  better  than 
the  eloquence  of  the  most  gifted  men.  "All,"  says 
St.  Augustin,  "  that  we  possess  of  truth  and  wisdom, 
is  a  borrowed  good,  flowing  from  that  fountain,  for 
which  we  ought  to  thirst  in  the  fearful  desert  of 
this  world,  that,  being  refreshed  and  invigorated  by 
these  dews  from  heaven,  we  may  not  faint  upon 
the  road  that  conducts  us  to  a  better  country.  Ev- 
ery attempt  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  our  hearts  at 
other  sources,  only  increases  the  void.  You  will 
be  always  poor,  if  you  do  not  possess  the  only  true 
riches."  All  light  that  does  not  proceed  from  God, 
is  false  ;  it  only  dazzles  us ;  it  sheds  no  illumina- 
tion upon  the  difficult  paths  in  which  we  must  walk, 
along  the  precipices  that  are  about  us. 

Our  experience  and  our  reflections  cannot,  on  all 
9* 


102  ON    PKAYKR. 

occasions,  give  us  just  and  certain  rules  of  conduct. 
The  advice  of  our  wisest  and  most  sincere  friends 
is  not  always  sufficient ;  many  things  escape  their 
observation,  and  many  that  do  not  are  too  painful 
to  be  spoken.  They  suppress  much  from  delicacy, 
or  sometimes  from  a  fear  of  transgressing  the  bounds 
that  our  friendship  and  confidence  in  them  will 
allow.  The  animadversions  of  our  enemies,  how- 
ever severe  or  vigilant  they  may  be,  fail  to  en- 
lighten us  with  regard  to  ourselves.  Their  malig- 
nity furnishes  our  self-love  with  a  pretext  for  the 
indulgence  of  the  greatest  faults.  The  blindness 
of  our  self-love  is  so  great,  that  we  find  reasons  for 
being  satisfied  with  ourselves  while  all  the  world 
condemn  us.  What  must  we  learn  from  all  this 
darkness  ?  That  it  is  God  alone  who  can  dissipate 
it ;  that  it  is  he  alone  whom  we  can  never  doubt ; 
that  he  alone  is  true,  and  knoweth  all  things ;  that 
if  we  go  to  him  in  sincerity,  he  will  teach  us  what 
men  dare  not  tell  us,  what  books  cannot,  all  that  is 
essential  for  us  to  know. 

Be  assured  that  the  greatest  obstacle  to  true  wis- 
dom is  the  presumption  inspired  by  that  which 
is  false.  The  first  step  towards  this  precious 
knowledge  is  earnestly  to  desire  it,  to  feel  the  want 
of  it,  and  to  be  convinced  that  they  Avho  seek  it 
must  address  themselves  to  the  Father  of  lights, 
who  freely  gives  to  him  who  asks  in  faith.  But 
if  it  be  true  that  CJod  alone  can  enlighten  us,  it  is 
not  the  less  true  that  he  will  do  this  only  in  answer 


ON    PRAYER.  103 

to  our  prayers.  Are  we  not  too  happy  in  being 
able  to  obtain  so  great  a  blessing  by  only  asking 
for  it  ?  No  part  of  the  effort  that  we  make  to  ac- 
quire the  transient  enjoyments  of  this  life,  is  neces- 
sary to  obtain  these  heavenly  blessings.  What 
will  we  not  do,  what  are  we  not  willing  to  suffer, 
to  possess  dangerous  and  contemptible  things,  and 
often  without  any  success.  It  is  not  thus  with 
heavenly  things.  God  is  always  ready  to  grant 
them  to  those  who  make  the  request  in  sincerity 
and  truth.  The  Christian  life  is  a  long  and  con- 
tinual tendency  of  our  hearts  towards  that  eternal 
goodness  which  we  desire  on  earth.  All  our  hap- 
piness consists  in  thirsting  for  it.  Now  this  thirst 
is  prayer.  Ever  desire  to  approach  your  Creator, 
and  you  will  never  cease  to  pray. 

Do  not  think  that  it  is  necessary  to  pronounce 
many  words.  To  pray  is  to  say.  Let  thy  will  be 
done  ;  it  is  to  form  a  good  purpose  ;  it  is  to  raise 
your  heart  to  God  ;  it  is  to  lament  your  weakness  ; 
it  is  to  sigh  at  the  recollection  of  your  frequent 
disobedience.  This  prayer  demands  neither  method, 
nor  science,  nor  reasoning ;  it  is  not  necessary  to 
quit  one's  employment ;  it  is  a  simple  movement 
of  the  heart  towards  its  Creator,  and  a  desire,  that 
whatever  you  are  doing,  you  may  do  it  to  his  glory. 
The  best  of  all  prayers  is  to  act  with  a  pure  inten- 
tion and  with  a  continual  reference  to  the  will 
of  God.  It  depends  upon  ourselves  whether  our 
prayers  be  efficacious.     It  is  not  by  a  miracle,  but 


104  ON    PRAYER. 

by  a  change  of  heart,  that  we  are  benefited,  by  a 
sph'it  of  submission.  Let  us  believe,  let  us  trust, 
let  us  hope,  and  God  never  will  reject  our  prayer. 
Yet  how  many  Christians  do  we  see,  strangers  to 
the  privilege,  aliens  from  God,  who  seldom  think 
of  him,  who  never  open  their  hearts  to  him  ;  who 
seek  elsewhere  the  counsels  of  a  false  wisdom,  and 
vain  and  dangerous  consolations ;  who  cannot  re- 
solve to  seek,  in  humble,  fervent  prayer  to  God,  a 
remedy  for  their  griefs,  and  a  true  knowledge  of 
their  defects,  the  necessary  power  to  conquer  their 
vicious  and  perverse  inclinations,  and  the  consola- 
tions and  assistance  they  require,  that  they  may 
not  be  discouraged  in  a  virtuous  life. 

But  some  will  say,  I  have  no  interest  in  prayer ; 
it  wearies  me ;  my  imagination  is  excited  by  sen- 
sible and  more  agreeable  objects,  and  wanders  in 
spite  of  me. 

If  neither  your  reverence  for  the  great  truths  of 
religion,  nor  the  majesty  of  the  ever-present  Deity, 
nor  the  interest  of  your  eternal  salvation,  have 
power  to  arrest  your  mind,  and  engage  it  in  prayer ; 
at  least  mourn  with  me  for  your  infidelity ;  be 
ashamed  of  your  weakness,  and  Avish  that  your 
thoughts  were  more  under  your  control,  and  desire 
to  become  less  frivolous  and  inconstant.  Make  an 
effort  to  subject  your  mind  to  this  discipline.  You 
will  gradually  acquire  habit  and  facility.  What  is 
now  tedious  will  become  delightful ;  and  you  will 
then  feel,  with  a  peace  that  the  world  cannot  give 


ON    PRAYER.  105 

nor  take  away,  that  God  is  good.  Make  a  courageous 
eflfort  to  overcome  yourself.  There  can  be  no  oc- 
casion that  calls  for  it  more  imperiously. 

Secondly.  The  peculiar  obligation  of  prayer. 
Were  I  to  give  all  the  proofs  that  the  subject  af- 
fords, I  should  describe  every  condition  of  life,  that 
I  might  point  out  its  dangers,  and  the  necessity  of 
recourse  to  God  in  prayer.  But  I  will  simply  state, 
that  under  all  circumstances  we  have  need  of  prayer. 
There  is  no  situation  in  which  we  can  be  placed, 
where  we  have  not  many  virtues  to  acquire,  and 
many  faults  to  correct.  We  find  in  our  tempera- 
ment, or  in  our  habits,  or  in  the  peculiar  character 
of  our  minds,  qualities  that  do  not  suit  our  occupa- 
tions, and  that  oppose  our  duties.  One  person  is 
connected  by  marriage  with  another,  whose  temper 
is  so  unequal,  that  life  becomes  a  perpetual  warfare. 
Some,  who  are  exposed  to  the  contagious  atmo- 
sphere of  the  world,  find  themselves  so  susceptible 
of  the  vanity,  which  they  inhale,  that  all  their  pure 
desires  vanish.  Others  have  solemnly  promised  to 
renounce  their  resentments,  to  conquer  their  aver- 
sions, to  suffer  with  patience  certain  crosses,  and 
to  repress  their  eagerness  for  wealth;  but  nature 
prevails,  and  they  are  vindictive,  violent,  impatient, 
and  avaricious. 

Whence  comes  it,  that  these  resolutions  are  so 
frail  ?  That  all  these  people  desire  to  improve,  that 
they  wish  to  perform  their  duty  towards  God  and 
man  better,  and  yet  fail ;  it  is  that  our  own  strength 


106  ON    PRAYER. 

and  wisdom  alone  are  not  enough.  We  undertake 
to  do  everything  without  God ;  therefore  we  do 
not  succeed.  It  is  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  that  we 
must  seek  for  counsel  which  will  aid  us.  It  is 
with  God,  that  we  must  lay  our  plan  of  virtue  and 
usefulness ;  it  is  he  alone  that  can  render  them 
successful.  Without  him,  all  our  designs,  however 
good  they  may  appear,  are  only  temerity  and  de- 
lusion. Let  us  then  pray,  that  we  may  learn  what 
we  are,  and  what  we  ought  to  be.  By  this  means, 
we  shall  not  only  learn  the  number  and  the  bad 
eflects  of  our  peculiar  faults,  but  we  shall  also  learn 
to  what  virtues  we  are  called,  and  the  way  to  prac- 
tice them.  The  rays  of  that  pure  and  heavenly 
light  that  visits  the  humble  soul,  will  beam  on  us ; 
and  we  shall  feel  and  understand  that  everything  is 
possible  to  those  Avho  put  their  whole  trust  in  Go^.- 
Thus,  not  only  to  those  who  live  in  retirement, 
but  to  those  who  are  exposed  to  the  agitations  of 
the  world  and  the  excitements  of  business,  it  is 
peculiarly  necessary,  by  contemplation  and  fervent 
prayer,  to  restore  their  souls  to  that  serenity,  which 
the  dissipations  of  life,  and  commerce  with  men, 
have  disturbed.  To  those  who  are  engaged  in  bu- 
siness, contemplation  and  prayer  are  much  more 
difficult  than  to  those  who  live  in  retirement ;  but 
it  is  far  more  necessary  for  them  to  have  frequent 
recourse  to  God  in  fervent  prayer.  In  the  most 
holy  occupation  a  certain  degree  of  precaution  is 
necessary. 


ON    PRAYEK.  107 

Do  not  devote  all  your  time  to  action,  but  reserve 
a  certain  portion  of  it  for  meditation  upon  eternity. 
We  see  Jesus  Christ  inviting  his  disciples  to  go 
apart,  in  a  desert  place,  and  rest  awhile,  after  their 
return  from  the  cities,  where  they  had  been  to  an- 
nounce his  religion.  How  much  more  necessary 
is  it  for  us  to  approach  the  source  of  all  virtue,  that 
we  may  revive  our  failing  faith  and  charity,  when 
we  return  from  the  busy  scenes  of  life,  where  men 
speak  and  act  as  if  they  had  never  known  that  there 
is  a  God.  We  should  look  upon  prayer  as  the 
remedy  for  our  weaknesses,  the  rectifier  of  our 
faults.  He  who  was  without  sin,  prayed  constant- 
ly ;  how  much  more  ought  we,  who  are  sinners, 
to  be  faithful  in  prayer ! 

Even  the  exercise  of  charity  is  often  a  snare  to 
us ;  it  calls  us  to  certain  occupations  that  dissipate 
the  mind,  and  that  may  degenerate  into  mere 
amusement.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  St.  Chrysos- 
tom  says,  that  nothing  is  so  important  as  to  keep 
an  exact  proportion  between  the  interior  source  of 
virtue  and  the  external  practice  of  it ;  else,  like  the 
foolish  virgins,  we  shall  find  that  the  oil  in  our 
lamps  is  exhausted  when  the  bridegroom  comes. 

The  necessity  we  feel  that  God  should  bless  our 
labors,  is  another  powerful  motive  to  prayer.  It 
often  happens,  that  all  human  help  is  vain.  It  is 
God  alone  that  can  aid  us,  and  it  does  not  require 
much  faith  to  believe,  that  it  is  less  our  exertions, 
our  foresight,  and  our  industry,  than  the  blessing 
of  the  Almighty,  that  can  give  success  to  our  wishes. 


108  ON    PRAYEH. 

Thirdly.  Of  the  manner  in  which  we  ought  to 
pray.  We  must  pray  with  attention.  God  listens 
to  the  voice  of  the  heart,  not  to  that  of  the  lips. 
Our  whole  heart  must  be  engaged  in  prayer.  It 
must  fasten  upon  what  it  prays  for  ;  and  every  hu- 
man object  must  disappear  from  our  minds.  To 
whom  must  we  speak  with  attention,  if  not  to  God  ? 
Can  he  demand  less  of  us,  than  that  we  should 
think  of  what  we  say  to  him  ?  Dare  we  hope  that 
he  will  listen  to  us,  and  think  of  us,  when  we  for- 
get ourselves  in  the  midst  of  our  prayers  ?  This 
attention  to  prayer,  which  it  is  so  just  to  exact  from 
Christians,  may  be  practised  with  less  difficulty 
than  we  imagine.  It  is  true,  that  the  most  faithful 
souls  suffer  from  occasional,  involuntary  distractions. 
They  cannot  always  control  their  imaginations, 
and,  in  the  silence  of  their  spirits,  enter  into  the 
presence  of  God,  But  these  unbidden  wanderings 
of  the  mind  ought  not  to  trouble  us  ;  and  they  may 
conduct  to  our  perfection  even  more  than  the  most 
sublime  and  affecting  prayers,  if  we  earnestly  strive 
to  overcome  them,  and  submit  with  humility  to 
this  experience  of  our  infirmity.  But  to  dwell 
willingly  on  frivolous  and  worldly  things,  during 
prayer,  to  make  no  effort  to  check  the  vain  thoughts 
that  intrude  upon  this  sacred  employment  and  come 
between  us  and  the  Father  of  our  spirits,  —  is  not 
this  choosing  to  live  the  sport  of  our  senses,  and 
separated  from  God  ? 

We  must  also  ask  with  faith  ;  a  faith  so  firm  that 


ON    PRAYLR.  109 

it  never  hesitates.  He  who  prays  without  confi- 
dence, cannot  hope  that  his  prayer  will  be  granted. 
Will  not  God  love  the  heart  that  trusts  in  him? 
Will  he  reject  those  who  bring  all  their  treasures 
to  him,  and  repose  everything  upon  his  goodness  ? 
When  we  pray  to  God,  says  St.  Cyprian,  with 
entire  assurance,  it  is  himself  who  has  given  us  the 
spirit  of  our  prayer.  Then  it  is  the  Father  listening 
to  the  words  of  his  child ;  it  is  he  who  dwells  in 
the  depth  of  our  hearts,  teaching  us  to  pray.  But 
must  we  not  confess,  that  this  filial  confidence  is 
wanting  in  all  our  prayers?  Is  not  prayer  our 
resource  only  after  all  others  have  failed  us  ?  If 
we  look  into  our  hearts,  shall  we  not  find,  that  \ve 
ask  of  God  as  if  we  had  never  before  received 
benefits  from  him  ?  Shall  Ave  not  discover  there  a 
secret  infidelity,  that  renders  us  unworthy  of  his 
goodness  ?  Let  us  tremble,  lest,  when  Jesus  Christ 
shall  judge  us,  he  pronounces  the  same  reproach 
that  he  did  to  Peter,  "  O  thou  of  little  faith,  where- 
fore didst  thou  doubt?" 

We  must  join  humility  with  trust.  Great  God, 
said  Daniel,  when  we  prostrate  ourselves  at  thy 
feet,  we  do  not  place  our  hopes,  for  the  success  of 
our  prayers,  upon  our  righteousness,  but  upon  thy 
mercy.  Without  this  disposition  in  our  hearts,  all 
others,  however  pious  they  may  be,  cannot  please 
God.  Saint  Augustin  observes,  that  the  failure  of 
Peter  should  not  be  attributed  to  insincerity  in  his 
zeal  for  Jesus  Christ.  He  loved  his  master  in  good 
10 


110  ON    PRAYER. 

faith  ;  in  good  faith  he  would  rather  have  died  than 
have  forsaken  him  ;  but  his  fault  lay  in  trusting  to 
his  own  strength  to  do  what  his  own  heart  dictated. 

It  is  not  enough  to  possess  a  right  spirit,  an  ex- 
act knowledge  of  duty,  a  sincere  desire  to  perform 
it.  We  must  continually  renew  this  desire,  and 
enkindle  this  flame  within  us,  at  the  fountain  of 
pure  and  eternal  light. 

It  is  the  humble  and  contrite  heart  that  God  will 
not  despise.  Remark  the  difference  which  the 
Evangelist  has  pointed  out  between  the  prayer  of 
the  proud  and  presumptuous  Pharisee  and  the 
humble  and  penitent  Publican.  The  one  relates 
his  virtues,  the  other  deplores  his  sins ;  the  good 
works  of  the  one  shall  be  set  aside,  while  the  peni- 
tence of  the  other  shall  be  accepted.  It  will  be 
thus  with  many  Christians.  Sinners,  vile  in  their 
own  eyes,  will  be  objects  of  the  mercy  of  God  ; 
while  some,  who  have  made  professions  of  piety, 
will  be  condemned  on  account  of  the  pride  and 
arrogance  that  have  contaminated  their  good  works. 
It  will  be  so,  because  these  have  said  in  their  hearts, 
Lord,  I  thank  thee  that  I  am  not  as  other  men  are. 
They  imagine  themselves  privileged  souls ;  they 
pretend  that  they  alone  have  penetrated  the  mys- 
teries of  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  they  have  a  language 
and  science  of  their  own  ;  they  believe  that  their 
zeal  can  accomplish  everything.  Their  regular 
lives  favor  their  vanity;  but  in  truth  they  are  inca- 
pable of  self-sacrifice,  and  they  go  to  their  devotions, 


ON    PRAYER.  Ill 

with  their  hearts  full  of  pride  and  presumption. 
Unhappy  are  those  who  pray  in  this  manner.  Un- 
happy are  they  whose  prayers  do  not  render  them 
more  humble,  more  submissive,  more  vigilant  over 
their  faults,  and  more  willing  to  live  in  obscurity. 
We  must  pray  with  love.  It  is  love,  says  St. 
Augustin,  that  asks,  that  seeks,  tliat  knocks,  that 
finds,  and  that  is  faithful  to  what  it  finds.  We 
cease  to  pray  to  God,  as  soon  as  we  cease  to  love 
him,  as  soon  as  we  cease  to  thirst  for  his  perfec- 
tions. The  coldness  of  our  love  is  the  silence  of 
our  hearts  towards  God.  Without  this,  we  may 
pronounce  prayers,  but  we  do  not  pray  ;  for  what 
shall  lead  us  to  meditate  upon  the  laws  of  God,  if 
it  be  not  the  love  of  him  who  has  made  these  laws. 
Let  our  hearts  be  full  of  love  then,  and  they  will 
pray.  Happy  are  they  who  think  seriously  of  the 
truths  of  religion,  but  far  more  happy  are  they  who 
feel  and  love  them.  We  must  ardently  desire,  that 
God  will  grant  us  spiritual  blessings  ;  and  the  ardor 
of  our  wishes  must  render  us  worthy  of  the  bless- 
ings. For  if  we  pray  only  from  custom,  from  fear, 
in  the  time  of  tribulation ;  if  we  honor  God  only 
with  our  lips,  whilst  our  hearts  are  far  from  him  ; 
if  we  do  not  feel  a  strong  desire  for  the  success  of 
our  prayers ;  if  we  feel  a  chilling  indifference,  in 
approaching  him  who  is  a  consuming  fire  ;  if  we 
have  no  zeal  for  his  glory  ;  if  we  do  not  feel  hatred 
for  sin,  and  a  thirst  for  perfection  ;  we  cannot  hope 
for  a  blessing  upon  such  heartless  prayers. 


112  ON    PRAYEE. 

We  must  pray  with  perseverance.  The  perfect 
heart  is  never  weary  of  seeking  God.  Ought  we 
to  complain,  if  God  sometimes  leaves  us  to  obscurity, 
and  doubt,  and  temptation  ?  Trials  purify  humble 
souls,  and  they  serve  to  expiate  the  faults  of  the 
unfaithful ;  they  confound  those  who,  even  in  their 
prayers,  have  flattered  their  cowardice  and  pride. 
If  an  innocent  soul,  devoted  to  God,  suffer  from 
any  secret  disturbance,  it  should  be  humble,  adore 
the  designs  of  God,  and  redouble  its  prayers  and 
its  fervor.  How  often  do  we  hear  those,  who 
every  day  have  to  reproach  themselves  with  un- 
faithfulness towards  God,  complain  that  he  refuses 
to  answer  their  prayers !  Ought  they  not  to  ac- 
knowledge, that  it  is  their  sins  which  have  formed 
a  thick  cloud  between  Heaven  and  them,  and  that 
God  has  justly  hidden  himself  from  them  ?  How 
often  has  he  recalled  us  from  our  wanderings ! 
How  often,  ungrateful  as  we  are,  have  we  been 
deaf  to  his  voice,  and  insensible  to  his  goodness ! 
He  would  make  us  feel,  that  we  are  blind  and  mis- 
erable when  we  forsake  him ;  he  would  teach  us, 
by  privation,  the  value  of  the  blessings  that  we 
have  slighted ;  and  shall  we  not  bear  our  punish- 
ment with  patience  ?  Who  can  boast  of  having 
done  all  that  he  ought  to  have  done,  of  having 
repaired  all  his  past  errors,  of  having  purified  his 
heart,  so  that  he  may  claim  as  a  right  that  God 
should  listen  to  his  prayer?  Alas!  all  our  pride, 
great  as  it  is,  would  not  be  sufficient  to  inspire  such 


ON    PRAYER.  113 

presumption.  If,  then,  the  Ahniglity  do  not  grant 
our  petitions,  let  us  adore  his  justice,  let  ns  be  silent, 
let  us  humble  ourselves,  and  let  us  pray  without 
ceasing.  This  humble  perseverance  will  obtain 
from  him  what  we  should  never  obtain  by  our  own 
merit.  It  will  make  us  pass  happily  from  darkness 
to  light ;  for  know,  says  St.  Augustin,  that  God  is 
near  to  us  even  when  he  appears  far  from  us. 

Lastly.  We  should  pray  with  a  pure  intention. 
We  should  not  mingle,  in  our  prayers,  what  is  false 
with  what  is  real,  what  is  perishable  with  what  is 
eternal,  low  and  temporal  interests  with  that  which 
concerns  oiu'  salvation.  Do  not  seek  to  render  God 
the  protector  of  your  self-love  and  ambition,  but 
the  promoter  of  your  good  desires.  You  ask  for 
the  gratification  of  your  passions,  or  to  be  delivered 
from  the  cross,  of  which  he  knows  you  have  need  ; 
carry  not  to  the  foot  of  the  altar  irregular  desires 
and  indiscreet  prayers  ;  sigh  not  there  for  vain  and 
fleeting  pleasures.  Open  your  heart  to  your  Father 
in  heaven,  that  his  spirit  may  enable  you  to  ask  for 
the  true  riches.  How  can  he  grant  you,  says  St. 
Augustin,  what  you  do  not  yourself  desire  to  re- 
ceive ?  You  pray  every  day  that  his  will  may  be 
done,  and  that  his  kingdom  may  come.  How  can 
you  utter  this  prayer  with  sincerity,  when  you  pre- 
fer your  own  will  to  his,  and  make  his  law  yield 
to  the  vain  pretexts  with  which  your  self-love  socks 
to  elude  it  ?  Can  you  make  this  prayer,  you  who 
disturb  his  reign  in  your  heart  by  so  many  impure 
10* 


114  ON    PRAYER, 

and  vain  desires,  you,  in  fine,  who  fear  the  arrival 
of  his  reign,  and  do  not  desire  that  God  should 
grant  what  you  seem  to  pray  for  ?  No.  If  he  at 
this  moment  were  to  offer  to  give  you  a  new  heart, 
and  render  you  humble,  and  meek,  and  self-deny- 
ing, and  willing  to  bear  the  cross,  your  pride  would 
revolt,  and  you  would  not  accept  the  offer,  or  you 
would  make  a  reservation  in  favor  of  your  ruling 
passion,  and  try  to  accommodate  your  piety  to  your 
humor  and  fancies. 

Methods  and  forms  of  prayer,  received  from 
pious  and  experienced  Christians,  should  be  treated 
with  respect ;  but  we  must  not  neglect  the  essen- 
tial of  prayer,  which  is  an  earnest  desire  that  God, 
who  knows  our  wants  better  than  we  do  ourselves, 
will  supply  them.  His  Holy  Spirit  will  teach  us 
to  pray,  and  will  guide  us  when  we  are  in  need  of 
its  aid.  But  what  is  most  important  is  the  persua- 
sion, that  the  simplest,  most  humble  mode  of  prayer 
is  the  best,  and  the  most  acceptable,  and  the  most 
conformable  to  the  words  of  'the  Son  of  God  and 
the  apostles.  In  such  prayers  we  find  light  and 
strength  to  fulfil  our  duty  with  meekness  and  hu- 
mility, in  whatever  condition  we  may  be  placed. 
Without  this  liclj)  we  shall  form  good  resolutions 
in  vain  ;  deprived  of  this  interior  support,  we  shall 
be  without  strength  in  all  the  difliculties  and  temp- 
tations of  life. 


ON  PRAYER  AND  PIETY.  115 


ADVICE  UPON  THE  EXERCISES  OF  PRAYER  AND  PIETY. 

Perfect  prayer  must  be  the  love  of  God.  The 
exceHence  of  this  prayer  does  not  consist  in  the 
number  of  words  that  we  pronounce,  for  God  sees 
our  hearts,  and  knows  all  that  we  want.  The 
heart  asks  only  what  God  wills  that  we  should 
have.  He  who  does  not  desire  with  his  whole 
heart,  makes  a  deceitful  prayer.  How  few  are 
there  who  pray !  for  how  few  really  wish  the  true 
riches,  humility,  renunciation  of  their  own  will, 
the  reign  of  God  upon  the  ruins  of  their  self-love. 
We  must  desire  these  blessings  sincerely,  and  in 
connexion  with  all  the  details  of  life  ;  else  prayer 
is  only  an  illusion,  like  a  pleasant  dream  to  a 
wretched  sufferer,  who  thinks  he  i:)0ssesses  a  fe- 
licity that  is  far  from  him.  Still  we  must  not 
cease  to  pray,  even  when  we  cannot  feel  this  true 
love  and  sincere  desire  :  God  looks  into  the  soul, 
and  will  see  the  desire  to  love  him. 

When  we  are  engaged  even  in  the  works  of  God, 
we  may  feel  an  inevitable  distraction  of  mind  ;  but 
we  carry  within  us  a  flame  which  is  not  extin- 
guished, but,  on  the  contrary,  nourishes  a  secret 
prayer,  that  is  like  a  lamp,  ever  burning  before  the 
throne  of  the  Supreme. 

When  the  divine  light  begins  to  illuminate  us, 
then  we  have  a  clear  vision  of  truth,  and  wo  im- 
mediately recognise  it.    We  need  not  reason  to  prove 


116  ON    PRAYER    AND    PIETY. 

the  splendor  of  the  sun ;  it  rises,  and  we  see  it. 
This  union  with  God  in  prayer  must  be  the  result 
of  faithful  obedience  to  his  will ;  by  this  alone  must 
we  measure  our  love  to  him  ;  our  meditations  ought 
to  become  every  day  more  profound  and  intimate  ; 
divine  truths  should  enter  the  substance  of  our 
soul,  and  nourish  and  grow  with  it.  We  ought  to 
meditate  upon  truth,  and  meditate  at  leisure,  in 
singleness  of  heart,  without  seeking  ingenious  and 
abstract  thoughts. 

Let  us  do  good,  according  to  the  means  that  God 
has  given  us,  with  discernment,  with  courage,  and 
with  perseverance.  With  discernment ;  for  charity, 
while  it  seeks  to  promote  the  glory  of  God  by  impart- 
ing to  man,  has  reference  to  the  nature,  the  work, 
and  the  condition  of  him  who  undertakes  it ;  it 
avoids  disproportionate  designs.  With  courage ; 
St.  Paul  exhorts  us  not  to  be  weary  in  well  doing  ; 
that  is,  let  us  not  be  wanting  in  true  zeal  and  faith. 
With  perseverance  ;  for  we  see  weak  spirits,  light 
and  inconstant  minds,  soon  looking  back  in  the 
career  of  virtue.  We  shall  always  find  occasions  to 
do  good ;  tliey  present  themselves  everywhere ;  it 
is  the  will  to  do  good  that  is  wanting.  Even  soli- 
tude, where  we  seem  to  have  no  means  of  action, 
even  the  solitude  that  allows  the  least  action,  and 
affords  the  least  communication  with  our  fellow- 
beings,  still  presents  opjiortunitics  of  glorifying  him 
who  is  their  Master  and  ours. 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    GOD    TEACHES    AVITHIN.  117 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  GOD  TEACHES   WITHIN. 

It  is  certain,  that  the  scriptures  declare  that  "  the 
Spirit  of  God  dwells  within  us,"  that  it  animates 
us,  speaks  to  us  in  silence,  suggests  all  truth  to  us, 
and  that  we  are  so  united  to  it,  that  we  are  joined 
unto  the  Lord  in  one  spirit.  This  is  what  the 
christian  religion  teaches  us.  Those  learned  men, 
who  have  been  most  opposed  to  the  idea  of  an  in- 
terior life,  are  obliged  to  acknowledge  it.  Not- 
withstanding this,  they  suppose  that  the  external 
law,  or  rather  the  light  from  certain  doctrines  and 
reasonings,  enlightens  our  minds,  and  that  after- 
wards it  is  our  reason  that  acts  by  itself  from  these 
instructions.  Tliey  do  not  attach  sufficient  import- 
ance to  the  teacher  within  us,  which  is  the  Spirit 
of  God.  This  is  the  soul  of  our  soul,  and  without 
it  we  could  form  no  thought  or  desire,  Alas ! 
then,  of  what  blindness  we  are  guilty,  if  we  sup- 
pose that  we  are  alone  in  this  interior  sanctuary, 
while,  on  the  contrary,  God  is  there  even  more  in- 
timately than  we  are  ourselves. 

You  will  say,  perhaps.  Are  we  then  inspired  ? 
Yes,  doubtless,  but  not  as  the  prophets  and  the 
apostles  were.  Without  the  actual  inspiration  of 
the  Almighty,  we  could  neither  do,  nor  will,  nor 
think  anything.  We  are  then  always  inspired  j 
but  we  are  ever  stifling  this  inspiration.  God 
never  ceases  to  speak  to  us ;  but  the  noise  of  the 


118  THE    SPIRIT    OF    GOU    TEACHES    WITHIN. 

world  without,  and  the  tumult  of  our  passions 
within,  bewilder  us,  and  prevent  us  from  listening 
to  him.  All  must  be  silent  around  us,  and  all  must 
be  still  within  us,  when  we  should  listen  with  our 
whole  souls  to  this  voice.  It  is  a  still  small  voice, 
and  is  only  heard  by  those  who  listen  to  no  other. 
Alas  !  how  seldom  is  it  that  the  soul  is  so  still,  that 
it  can  hear  when  God  speaks  to  it.  Our  vain  de- 
sires and  our  self-love  confuse  the  voice  within  us. 
We  know  that  it  speaks  to  us,  that  it  demands 
something  of  us  ;  but  we  cannot  hear  what  it  says, 
and  we  are  often  glad  that  it  is  unintelligible. 
Ought  we  to  wonder  that  so  many,  even  religious 
persons,  who  are  engrossed  Avith  amusements,  full 
of  vain  desires,  false  wisdom,  and  self-confidence, 
cannot  understand  it,  and  regard  this  interior  word 
of  God  as  a  chimera  ? 

This  inspiration  must  not  make  us  think  that  we 
are  like  prophets.  The  inspiration  of  the  prophets 
was  full  of  certainty  upon  those  things  that  God 
commanded  them  to  declare  or  to  do ;  they  were 
called  upon  to  reveal  what  related  to  the  future,  or 
to  perform  a  miracle,  or  to  act  with  the  divine 
authority.  This  inspiration,  on  the  contrary,  is 
without  light  and  without  certainty  ;  it  limits  itself 
to  teaching  us  obedience,  patience,  meekness,  hu- 
mility, and  all  otlier  christian  virtues.  It  is  not  a 
divine  monition  to  ])rcdict,  to  change  the  laws  of 
nature,  or  to  command  men  with  an  authority  from 
God.     It  is  a  simple  invitation  from  the  depths  of 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    GOD    TEACHES    WITHIN.  119 

the  soul,  to  obey,  and  to  resign  ourselves  even  to 
death,  if  it  be  the  will  of  God.  This  inspiration, 
regarded  thus,  and  within  these  bounds,  and  in  its 
true  simplicity,  contains  only  the  common  doctrine 
of  the  christian  church.  It  has  not  in  itself,  if  the 
imaginations  of  men  add  nothing  to  it,  any  tempta- 
tion to  presumption  or  illusion  ;  on  the  contrary,  it 
places  us  in  the  hands  of  God,  trusting  all  to  his 
Spirit,  without  either  violating  our  liberty,  or  leav- 
ing anything  to  our  pride  and  fancies. 

If  this  truth  be  admitted,  that  God  always  speaks 
within  us,  he  speaks  to  impenitent  sinners  ;  but 
they  are  deafened  and  stunned  by  the  tumult  of 
their  passions,  and  cannot  hear  his  voice  ;  his  word 
to  them  is  a  fable.  He  speaks  in  the  souls  of  sin- 
ners who  are  converted  ;  these  feel  the  remorse  of 
conscience,  and  this  remorse  is  the  voice  of  God 
within  them,  reproaching  them  for  their  vices. 
When  sinners  are  truly  touched,  they  find  no  diffi- 
culty in  comprehending  this  secret  voice ;  for  it  is 
that  which  penetrates  their  souls  ;  it  is  in  them  the 
two  edged  sword  of  which  St.  Paul  speaks.  God 
makes  himself  felt,  understood  and  followed.  They 
hear  this  voice  of  mercy,  entering  the  very  recesses 
of  the  heart,  in  accents  of  tender  reproach,  and  the 
soul  is  torn  with  agony.      This  is  true  contrition. 

God  speaks  in  the  hearts  of  the  wise  and  learned, 
of  them  whose  regular  lives  appear  adorned  with 
many  virtues ;  but  such  persons  are  often  too  full 
of  their  own  wisdom  ;  they  listen  too  much  to  them- 


120  UPON  THE  USE  OF  CROSSES. 

selves  to  listen  much  to  God,  They  turn  every- 
thing to  reasoning ;  they  form  principles  from 
natural  wisdom  and  by  worldly  prudence,  that 
they  would  have  arrived  at  much  sooner  by  single- 
ness of  heart  and  a  docility  to  the  will  of  God. 
They  often  appear  much  better  than  they  are ; 
theirs  is  a  mixed  excellence  ;  they  are  too  wise  and 
great  in  their  own  eyes  ;  and  I  have  often  remarked, 
tha.t  an  ignorant  sinner  who  is  beginning  in  his  con- 
version to  be  touched  with  the  true  love  of  God, 
is  more  disposed  to  understand  this  interior  word 
of  the  Spirit,  than  certain  enlightened  and  wise 
people  who  have  grown  old  in  their  own  wisdom. 
God,  who  seeks  to  communicate  himself,  cannot 
be  received  by  these  souls,  so  full  of  themselves 
and  their  own  virtue  and  wisdom  ;  but  his  presence 
is  with  the  simple.  Where  are  these  simple  souls  ? 
I  see  but  few  of  them.  God  sees  them,  and  it  is 
with  them  that  he  is  pleased  to  dwell.  My  Father 
and  I,  says  Jesus  Christ,  will  come  unto  him,  and 
make  our  abode  with  him. 


UPON    THE    USE    OF    CROSSES. 

We  find  it  difiicult  to  believe  in  that  almighty 
goodness  that  inflicls  trials  on  those  whom  it  loves. 
Why,  we  say  should  it  please  God  to  make  us  suf- 


UPON    THE    USE    OF    CROSSES.'  121 

fer  ?  Why  could  he  not  make  us  good  without 
making  us  miserable  ?  Doubtless  he  could,  for  he 
is  all  powerful ;  the  hearts  of  men  are  in  his  hands, 
and  he  can  turn  them  as  he  will.  But  he,  who 
could  save  us  from  sorrow,  has  not  chosen  to  do  it  ; 
just  as  he  has  willed  that  men  should  slowly  grow 
from  infancy  to  manhood,  instead  of  creating  them 
at  once  in  maturity.  We  have  only  to  be  silent, 
and  adore  his  profound  wisdom  without  compre- 
hending it.  Thus  we  see  clearly,  that  we  cannot 
be  virtuous  but  ni  proportion  as  we  become  humble, 
disinterested,  trusting  everything  to  God,  without 
any  unquiet  concern  about  ourselves.  We  have 
need  of  all  our  crosses.  When  we  suffer  much,  it 
is  because  we  have  strong  ties  that  it  is  necessary 
to  loosen.  We  resist,  and  we  thus  retard  the  divine 
operation  ;  we  repulse  the  heavenly  hand,  and  it 
must  come  again :  it  would  be  wiser  to  yield  our- 
selves at  once  to  God.  That  the  operation  of  his 
providence,  which  overthrows  our  self-love,  should 
not  be  painful  to  us,  would  require  the  intervention 
of  a  miracle.  Would  it  be  less  miraculous,  that  a 
soul,  absorbed  in  its  own  concerns,  should,  m  a 
moment,  become  dead  to  self,  than  that  a  child 
should  go  to  sleep  a  child,  and  wake  up  a  man  ? 
The  work  of  God  in  the  heart,  as  upon  the  body, 
is  invisible  :  it  is  by  a  train  of  almost  insensible 
events.  He  not  only  produces  these  effects  gradu- 
ally, but  by  ways  that  seem  so  simple,  and  so 
calculated  to  succeed,  that  human  wisdom  attributes 
11 


122  UFON  THE  USE  OF  CROSSES. 

the  success  to  these  natural  causes,  and  thus  the 
finger  of  God  is  overlooked.  Formerly  every  work 
of  God  was  by  a  miracle,  and  this  precluded  that 
exercise  of  faith  which  he  now  demands  of  us.  It 
is  to  try  our  faith,  that  God  renders  this  operation 
so  slow  and  sorrowful. 

The  ingratitude  and  inconstancy  of  our  fellow- 
creatures,  the  misapprehensions  and  disgust  we 
meet  with  in  prosperity,  detach  us  from  life  and  its 
deceitful  enjoyments.  God  destroys  the  delusions 
of  self-love  by  the  experience  which  he  gives  us  of 
our  shifulness  and  numberless  errors.  All  this 
appears  natural  to  us  ;  and  thus  our  self-love  is 
consumed  by  a  slow  fire,  while  he  would  have  it 
annihilated  at  once,  in  the  overpowering  flame  of 
a  pure  and  devoted  love  to  God ;  but  tliis  would 
cost  us  but  little  pain.  It  is  an  excess  of  self-love 
that  would  become  perfect  in  a  moment,  rather 
than  by  slow  degrees.  What  is  it  that  makes  us 
complain  of  the  length  of  our  trials  ?  It  is  still  this 
attachment  to  self;  and  this  is  what  God  would 
destroy.  Why  should  we  complain  ?  The  love  of 
the  beings  and  things  of  this  world  is  our  evil,  and 
still  more  the  love  of  ourselves.  Our  Father  in 
heaven  orders  a  scries  of  events  that  gradually  de- 
tach us  from  the  earth,  and  finally  from  self.  This 
operation  is  painful ;  but  it  is  the  disease  of  our 
soul  that  renders  it  necessary,  and  that  causes  the 
pain  wc  feel.  Is  it  cruelty  in  the  surgeon  to  cut  to 
the  quick  ?  No  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  affection,  it 
is  skill;  he  would  so  treat  his  only  son. 


UPON  THE  USE  OF  CROSSES.  123 

And  thus  it  is  with  God  ;  his  parental  heart  does 
not  wish  to  grieve  us :  he  must  wound  us  to  the 
very  heart,  that  he  may  cure  its  malady.  He  must 
take  from  us  what  is  most  dear,  lest  we  love  it  too 
much,  lest  we  love  it  to  the  prejudice  of  our  love 
for  him.  We  weep,  we  despair,  we  groan  in  our 
spirits,  and  we  murmur  against  God  ;  but  he  leaves 
us  to  our  sorrow,  and  we  are  saved  ;  our  present 
grief  saves  us  from  an  eternal  sorrow.  He  has 
placed  the  friends  whom  he  has  taken  from  us  in 
safety,  to  restore  them  to  us  in  eternity.  He  has 
deprived  us  of  them,  that  he  may  teach  us  to  love 
them  with  a  pure  love,  a  love  that  we  may  enjoy 
in  his  presence  forever  ;  he  confers  a  greater  bless- 
ing than  we  were  capable  of  desiring. 

There  happens  nothing,  even  to  the  sinner,  that 
God  has  not  willed.  It  is  he  who  does  all,  who 
rules,  who  gives  to  all  whatever  they  receive.  He 
has  numbered  the  very  hairs  of  our  head,  the  leaves 
of  the  trees,  the  sands  on  the  sea-shore,  and  the 
drops  of  the  ocean.  In  creating  the  universe,  his 
wisdom  has  weighed  and  measured  the  least  atom. 
It  is  he  who,  every  moment,  produces  and  renews 
the  breath  of  life  within  us.  It  is  he  who  has 
numbered  our  days.  That  which  most  astonishes 
us,  is  nothing  in  the  sight  of  God.  Of  what  con- 
sequence is  it  whether  this  frail  house  of  clay 
crumble  into  dust  a  little  sooner,  or  a  little  later  ? 
What  do  they  lose,  who  are  deprived  of  those  whom 
they  love  ?      Perhaps  they  lose  only  a  perpetual 


124  rPON  THE  USE  OF  CROSSES. 

delirium ;  they  lose  their  forgetfulness  of  God  and 
of  themselves,  in  which  they  were  plunged  ;  or 
rather  they  gain,  by  the  efficacy  of  this  trial,  the 
felicity  of  detachment  from  the  world  :  the  sarrie 
stroke  that  saves  the  person  who  dies,  prepares 
others,  by  suffering,  to  labor  for  their  own  salvation. 
Is  it  not  then  true,  that  God  is  good,  that  he  is 
tender  and  compassionate  towards  our  real  sorrows, 
even  when  he  strikes  us  to  the  heart,  and  we  are 
tempted  to  complain  of  his  severity  ? 

Very  soon  they  who  are  separated  will  be  re- 
united, and  there  will  appear  no  trace  of  the  sepa- 
ration. They,  who  are  about  to  set  out  upon  a 
journey,  ought  not  to  feel  themselves  far  distant 
from  those  who  have  gone  to  the  same  comitry,  a 
few  days  before.  Life  is  like  a  torrent ;  the  past 
is  but  a  dream ;  the  present,  while  we  are  thinking 
of  it,  escapes  us,  and  is  precipitated  in  the  same 
abyss  that  has  swallowed  up  the  past ;  the  future  will 
not  be  of  a  different  nature,  it  will  pass  as  rapidly. 
A  few  moments,  and  a  few  more,  and  all  will  be 
ended ;  what  has  appeared  long  and  tedious,  will 
seem  short,  when  it  is  finished. 

It  is  this  unquiet  self-love  that  renders  us  so  sen- 
sitive. The  sick  man,  who  sleeps  ill,  thinks  the 
night  long.  We  exaggerate,  from  coAvardice,  all 
the  evils  which  we  encounter :  they  are  great  but 
our  sensibility  increases  them.  The  true  way  to 
bear  them  is  to  yield  ourselves  up  Avith  confidence 
to  God.     We  suffer,  indeed,  but  God  wills  this  suf- 


UPON  THE  USE  OF  CROSSES.  126 

fering,  that  it  may  purify  us,  and  render  us  worthy 
of  him.  The  world  forgets  us,  slights  us,  is  un- 
grateful to  us,  places  us  in  the  rank  of  those  who 
have  passed  away ;  true,  and  is  it  astonishing  that 
the  world  should  be  unjust,  treacherous,  and  deceit- 
ful ?  It  is  nevertheless  the  same  world  that  you 
have  not  been  ashamed  to  love  so  dearly,  and  that 
perhaps  you  still  love  ;  and  this  is  the  source  of 
your  sorrow. 

Almighty  God  !  thou,  who  alone  canst  see  the 
whole  extent  of  our  misery,  canst  alone  cure  it. 
Give  us,  we  implore  thee,  the  faith,  the  hope,  the 
love,  the  christian  courage  that  we  need.  Enable 
us  ever  to  raise  our  eyes  to  thee,  the  all-powerful, 
who  will  give  to  thy  children  only  what  is  for 
their  everlasting  good,  and  to  Jesus  Christ  thy  Son, 
who  is  our  example  in  sutfering.  Raise  our  hearts, 
O,  our  Father ;  make  them  like  his,  that  they  may 
be  self-denying,  and  may  fear  only  thy  displeasure 
and  eternal  sorrow.  O  Lord,  thou  seest  the  weak- 
ness and  desolation  of  the  creature  of  thy  hands. 
It  has  no  resource  in  itself;  it  wants  everything, 
and  seeks  in  thee  with  confidence  the  good  it  can- 
not find  elsewhere. 


11* 


126  UPON    DAILY    FAULTS. 


UPON    DAILY    FAULTS. 


There  are  many  faults  that  are  voluntary  to  a 
certain  degree,  though  they  are  not  committed  with 
a  deliberate  purpose  of  disobedience  to  God.  We 
often  reproach  a  friend  for  a  fault  that  he  knows 
gives  us  pain,  and  that  he  still  repeats  with  this 
knowledge,  although  not  with  the  design  to  offend 
us.  We  sometimes  commit  such  faults  towards 
God.  They  are  in  truth  voluntary,  because, 
though  we  do  not  reflect  at  the  moment,  yet  we 
have  an  interior  light  in  our  consciences,  that  should 
be  suflicient  at  least  to  make  us  hesitate  before  we 
act.  These  are  often  the  faults  of  very  good  peo- 
ple. Small  offences  become  great  in  our  eyes,  as 
the  light  from  God  increases  within  us,  just  as 
the  sun,  when  rising,  reveals  to  us  the  magnitude 
of  objects,  of  M'hicli  we  had  only  a  confused  idea 
in  the  night.  As  this  light  rises  within  us,  we 
must  expect  that  the  imperfections  which  we  now 
discover,  will  a])pear  greater  and  more  sinful,  and 
that  we  shall  see,  springing  up  from  our  hearts, 
numerous  defects  that  we  never  suspected  were  ' 
there.  We  shall  there  find  weakness  enough  to 
destroy  our  self-love,  and  to  demolish  to  the  very 
foundation  the  fabric  of  human  pride.  Nothing 
proves  more  certainly  the  real  advancement  of  the 
soul,  than  the  power  to  see  these  imperfections 
without   being   discouraged   by  them.     When  we 


UPON    DAILY    FAULTS.  127 

perceive  an  inclination  to  do  wrong  before  we  have 
committed  a  fault,  we  must  abstain  from  it ;  but 
after  we  have  committed  it,  we  must  courageously 
endure  the  humiliation  that  follows.  When  we 
perceive  the  fault  before  we  commit  it,  we  must 
beware  of  resisting  the  Spirit  of  God.  that  is  warn- 
ing us  of  danger,  and  that  may,  if  Ave  neglect  it, 
be  silenced  within  us,  and  that  will  in  time  leave 
us,  if  we  do  not  yield  to  it.  The  faults  of  precipi- 
tation or  of  frailty,  are  nothing  in  comparison  with 
those  which  render  us  deaf  to  this  voice  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  that  is  beginning  to  speak  in  the 
bottom  of  our  hearts. 

Those  faults  that  we  do  not  perceive  till  after 
they  are  committed,  will  not  be  cured  by  inquietude 
and  vexation  with  ourselves ;  on  the  contrary,  this 
fretfulness  is  only  the  impatience  of  pride  at  the 
view  of  its  own  downfall.  The  only  use,  then,  to 
be  made  of  such  errors,  is,  to  submit  quietly  to  the 
humiliation  they  bring,  for  it  is  not  being  humble 
to  resist  humility.  We  must  condemn  our  faults, 
lament  them,  repent  of  them,  without  seeking  any 
palliation  "or  excuse,  viewing  ourselves  as  in  the 
presence  of  God,  with  all  our  imperfections  upon 
our  heads,  and  without  any  feeling  of  bitterness  or 
discouragement,  meekly  improving  our  disgrace. 
Thus  may  we  draw  from  the  serpent  a  cure  for  the 
venom  of  his  wound.  * 

Very  often  what  we  would  offer  to  God,  is  not 
what  he  calls  upon  us  to  relinquish.     What  he  de- 


128  UPON    DAILY    FAULTS. 

mands  of  us  is  often  what  we  most  cherish ;  it  is 
this  Isaac  of  our  hearts,  this  only  son,  this  well  be- 
loved, that  he  commands  us  to  resign  ;  it  is  his  will 
that  we  should  yield  up  all  that  is  most  dear,  and 
short  of  this  obedience  we  have  no  repose.  '•  Who 
is  he  that  has  resisted  the  Almighty  and  been  at 
peace  ?,"  Do  you  desire  the  blessing  of  God  upon 
your  efforts  ?  Give  up  everything  to  him,  and  the 
God  of  peace  will  be  with  you.  What  consolation, 
what  liberty,  what  strength,  what  enlargement  of 
heart,  what  growth  in  grace,  when  the  love  of  our- 
selves is  no  longer  between  us  and  our  Creator, 
and  we  have  made  without  hesitation  the  last 
sacrifice  ! 

Never  let  us  be  discouraged  with  ourselves ;  it  is 
not  when  we  are  conscious  of  our  faults  that  we 
are  the  most  wicked ;  on  the  contrary,  we  are  less 
so.  We  see  by  a  brighter  light ;  and  let  us  re- 
member for  our  consolation,  that  we  never  perceive 
our  sins  till  we  begin  to  cure  them.  We  must 
neither  flatter,  nor  be  impatient  with  ourselves,  in 
the  correction  of  our  faults.  Despondency  is  not 
a  state  of  humility  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  the  vexa- 
tion and  despair  of  a  cowardly  pride, — nothing  is 
worse ;  whether  we  stumble  or  whether  we  fall, 
we  must  only  think  of  rising  again,  and  going  on 
in  our  course.  Our  faults  may  be  useful  to  us,  if 
they  cure  us  of  a  vain  confidence  in  ourselves,  and 
do  not  (lr|)riv('  us  of  an  humble  and  salutary  con- 
fidence in  God.     Let  us  bless  God  with  as  true 


UPON    AMUSEMENTS.  129 

thankfLilness,  if  he  have  enabled  us  to  make  any 
progress  in  virtue,  as  if  we  had  made  it  through 
our  own  strength,  and  let  us  not  be  troubled  with 
the  weak  agitations  of  self-love ;  let  them  pass,  do 
not  think  of  them.  God  never  makes  us  feel  our 
weaknesses  but  that  we  may  be  led  to  seek  strength 
from  him.  What  is  involuntary  should  not  trouble 
us ;  but  the  great  thing  is,  never  to  act  against  the 
light  within  us,  and  to  desire  to  follow  where  God 
would  lead  us. 


UPON    THE    AMUSEMENTS    THAT    BELONG    TO    OUR 
CONDITION. 

We  should  not,  it  appears  to  me,  be  troubled 
about  those  amusements  in  which  we  cannot  avoid 
taking  a  part.  There  are  some  people  who  think 
that  they  should  be  always  mourning,  that  they 
should  put  a  continual  constraint  upon  themselves, 
and  feel  a  disgust  for  those  amusements  to  which 
they  are  obliged  to  submit.  For  my  own  part, 
I  confess  that  I  know  not  how  to  conform  my- 
self to  these  rigid  notions.  I  prefer  something 
more  simple,  which  I  also  think  would  be  more 
pleasing  to  God.  When  diversions  are  innocent  in 
themselves,  and  we  enter  upon  them  with  a  due 
regard  to  the  condition  in  which  we  are  placed  by 
Providence,  then  I  think  that  we  may  enjoy  them 


130  UPON    AMUSEMENTS. 

with  moderation  and  in  the  sight  of  God.  Manners 
more  reserved  and  harsh,  less  complaisant  and  frank, 
only  serve  to  give  a  false  idea  of  piety  to  the  peo- 
ple of  the  world,  who  are  already  but  too  much 
prejudiced  against  it,  and  who  believe  that  we  can- 
not serve  God  but  by  a  melancholy  and  austere 
life.  Let  us  go  on  our  way  in  the  simplicity  of 
our  hearts,  with  the  peace  and  joy  that  are  the 
fruits  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Whoever  walks  as  in 
the  presence  of  God  in  the  most  indifterent  things, 
does  not  cease  to  do  his  will,  although  he  may  ap- 
pear to  do  nothing  of  much  importance.  I  believe 
that  we  are  conforming  to  the  divine  order  and  the 
will  of  Providence,  when  we  are  doing  even  indif- 
ferent things  that  belong  to  our  condition. 

Most  persons,  when  they  wish  to  be  converted 
or  to  reform,  think  more  of  performing  some  diffi- 
cult and  extraordinary  actions,  than  of  purifying 
their  intentions,  and  sacrificing  their  inclinations 
in  the  most  common  duties  of  their  situation  in 
life ;  in  which  they  are  deceived.  It  would  be 
better  to  make  less  change  in  the  action,  and  a 
deeper  change  in  the  disposition  with  which  it  is 
performed.  When  we  are  already  pursuing  an 
honest  and  regular  life,  it  is  necessary  to  make  a 
change  within,  rather  tlian  without,  if  we  would 
become  Christians.  God  is  not  satisfied  with  the 
motion  of  tlie  li])S,  nor  tlie  posture  of  the  body, 
nor  outward  ceremonies.  It  is  our  undivided  love 
that  he  demands;  it  is  an  acquiescence,  Avithout 


UPON    AM[JSEI\IENTS.  131 

aiiy  reserve,  in  his  will.  Let  us  cai'ry  this  sub- 
missive temper,  this  will,  inspired  by  the  will  of 
God,  wherever  his  providence  conducts  us.  Let  us 
seek  the  Father  of  our  spirits  in  those  times  that 
seem  so  vacant,  and  they  will  be  full  of  his  presence. 
The  most  useless  amusements  may  be  converted 
into  good  works,  if  we  enter  into  them  with  proper 
decorum  and  in  conformity  to  the  will  of  God. 

What  enlargement  of  heart  do  we  experience 
when  we  act  with  this  simplicity ;  we  walk  like 
little  children  led  by  a  tender  parent,  not  fearing 
whither  we  may  go,  and  with  the  same  freedom  and 
joy.  When  piety  has  its  foundation  entirely  in  the 
will  of  God,  regarding  neither  fancy  nor  tempera- 
ment, nor  induced  by  an  excessive  zeal,  how  simple, 
and  graceful,  and  lovely,  are  all  its  movements! 
They  who  possess  this  piety  appear  much  like 
others ;  they  are  without  affectation,  without  aus- 
terity ;  they  are  social  and  easy,  but  still  live  in  per- 
petual subjection  to  all  their  duties,  and  in  an  unceas- 
ing renunciation  of  everything  that  does  not  in  some 
way  belong  to  the  divine  order  which  always 
governs.  In  short,  they  live  in  the  pure  vision  of 
God,  sacrificing  to  him  every  irregular  movement 
of  nature.  This  is  the  adoration  in  spirit  and  in 
truth  that  Jesus  Christ  has  taught.  All  the  rest  is 
the  mere  ceremony  of  religion  ;  the  shadow  rather 
than  the  substance  of  Christianity. 

You  ask  by  what  means  we  can  retain  this  purity 
of  intention  in  our  intercourse  with  the  world,  and 


132  UPON   AMUSEMENTS. 

while  thus  partaking  of  its  pleasures.  We  find  it 
difficult,  you  will  say,  to  defend  ourselves  against 
the  torrent  of  evil  passions  and  bad  examples  among 
men,  even  when  we  place  a  continual  guard  upon 
ourselves.  How  then  shall  we  hope  to  resist,  if 
we  expose  ourselves  so  readily  to  its  pleasures, 
which  may  contaminate,  and  must  dissipate  even 
the  mind  of  the  Christian? 

I  acknowledge  the  danger,  and  I  believe  it  even 
greater  than  it  is  said  to  be,  and  I  admit  the  neces- 
sity of  great  precaution  against  these  snares ;  and 
these  are  the  safeguards  that  I  would  recommend, 
reading,  prayer,  and  meditation  upon  the  great 
truths  of  religion.  Fix  your  thoughts  upon  some 
action  or  instruction  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  when 
you  feel .  convinced  of  the  truth  which  you  have 
been  considering,  make  a  serious  and  particular 
application  of  it  for  the  amendment  of  your  defects. 
If  you  are  faithful  to  retire,  morning  and  evening, 
for  the  practice  of  this  duty,  you  will  find  that  it 
will  serve  as  a  counterpoise  to  the  dangers  that  sur- 
round you.  I  say  morning  and  evening,  because 
the  soul,  like  the  body,  must  refresh  itself  at  stated 
times,  lest  it  faint  and  become  exhausted  in  its 
commerce  with  the  world.  Rut  wc  must  be  firm 
against  temptations  from  without  and  from  within, 
if  we  would  observe  those  periods.  We  never 
need  be  so  engrossed  by  external  things,  however 
good  they  may  be,  as  to  forget  the  wants  of  the 
soul.     I  am  persuaded,  that,  in  following  these  sim- 


AGAINST    TEMPTATIONS.  133 

pie  rules,  we  shall  ensure  an  abundant  blessing  ;  we 
shall  be  in  the  midst  of  pleasures,  moderate,  dis- 
creet, and  self-possessed,  without  constraint,  with- 
out affectation,  and  without  the  severity  that  gives 
pain  to  others.  We  shall  be  in  the  midst  of  these 
things  as  not  being  there  ;  and  still  preserving  a 
cheerful  and  complaisant  disposition,  we  shall  thus 
be  all  things  to  all  men. 

Should  we  feel  at  times  disheartened  and  dis- 
couraged, a  confiding  thought,  a  simple  movement 
of  heart  towards  God  will  renew  our  powers.  What- 
ever he  may  demand  of  us,  he  will  give  us  at  the 
moment  the  strength  and  the  courage  that  we  need. 
This  is  the  daily  bread  for  which  we  continually 
pray,  and  which  will  never  be  denied  us  ;  for  our 
Father,  far  from  forsaking  us,  waits  only  for  our 
hearts  to  be  opened,  to  pour  into  them  the  stream 
of  his  unfailing  love. 


AGAINST    TEMPTATIONS. 

There  are  but  two  things  that  we  can  do  against 
temptations.  The  first  is  to  be  faithful  to  the  light 
within  us,  in  avoiding  all  exposure  to  temptation, 
which  we  are  at  liberty  to  avoid.  I  say,  all  that 
we  are  at  liberty  to  avoid,  because  it  does  not 
always  depend  upon  ourselves,  whether  we  shall 
12 


134  AGAINST   TEMPTATIONS. 

escape  occasions  of  sin.  Those  that  belong  to  the 
situation  in  life  in  which  Providence  has  placed  us, 
are  not  under  our  control.  The  other  is  to  turn 
our  eyes  to  God  in  the  moment  of  temptation,  to 
throw  ourselves  immediately  upon  the  protection 
of  heaven,  as  a  child,  when  in  danger,  flies  to  the 
arms  of  its  parent. 

The  habitual  conviction  of  the  presence  of  God 
is  the  sovereign  remedy ;  it  supports,  it  consoles,  it 
calms  us.  We  must  not  be  surprised  that  we  are 
tempted.  We  are  placed  here  to  be  proved  by  temp- 
tations. Everything  is  temptation  to  us.  Crosses 
irritate  our  pride,  and  prosperity  flatters  it ;  our  life 
is  a  continual  warfare,  but  Jesus  Christ  combats 
with  us.  We  must  let  temptations,  like  a  tempest, 
beat  upon  our  heads,  and  still  move  on ;  like  a 
traveller  surprised  on  the  way  by  a  storm,  who 
wraps  his  cloak  about  him,  and  goes  on  his  journey 
in  spite  of  the  opposing  elements. 

In  a  certain  sense,  there  is  little  to  do  in  doing 
the  will  of  God.  Still  it  is  true  that  it  is  a  great 
work,  because  it  must  be  without  any  reserve. 
His  spirit  enters  the  secret  foldings  of  our  hearts, 
and  even  the  most  upright  aftections,  and  the  most 
necessary  attachments,  must  be  regulated  by  his 
will ;  but  it  is  not  the  multitude  of  hard  duties,  it 
is  not  constraint  and  contention  that  advances  us 
in  our  Christian  course.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  the 
yielding  of  our  wills  without  restriction  and  with- 
out choice,  to  tread   cheerfully  every  day  in  the 


UPON    FIDELITY    IN    LITTLE    THINGS.  135 

path  in  which  Providence  leads  us,  to  seek  nothing, 
to  be  discouraged  by  nothing,  to  see  our  duty  in 
the  present  moment,  to  trust  all  else  without  reserve 
to  the  will  and  power  of  God.  Let  us  pray  to  our 
heavenly  Father  that  our  wills  may  be  swallowed 
up  in  his. 


UPON  FIDELITY  IN  LITTLE  THINGS. 

Great  virtues  are  rare  ;  the  occasions  for  them 
are  very  rare  ;  and  when  they  do  occur,  we  are 
prepared  for  them,  we  are  excited  by  the  grandeur 
of  the  sacrifice,  we  are  supported  either  by  the 
splendor  of  the  deed  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  or 
by  the  self-complacency  that  we  experience  from 
the  performance  of  an  uncommon  action.  Little 
things  are  unforeseen  ;  they  return  every  moment ; 
they  come  in  contact  with  our  pride,  our  indolence, 
our  haughtiness,  our  readiness  to  take  offence  ;  they 
contradict  our  inclinations  perpetually.  We  would 
much  rather  make  certain  great  sacrifices  to  God, 
however  violent  and  painful  they  might  be,  upon 
condition  that  we  should  be  rewarded  by  liberty  to 
follow  onr  own  desires  and  habits  in  the  details  of 
life.  It  is,  however,  only  by  fidelity  in  little  things, 
that  a  true  and  constant  love  to  God  can  be  distin- 
guished from  a  passing  fervor  of  spirit. 

All  great  things  are  only  a  great  number  of  small 


136  UPON    FIDELITY    IN    LITTLE    THINGS. 

things  that  have  been  carefully  collected  together. 
He  who  loses  nothing  will  soon  grow  rich.  Be- 
sides, let  us  remember,  that  God  looks  in  onr  actions 
only  for  the  motive.  The  world  judges  us  by  ap- 
pearance ;  God  counts  for  nothing  what  is  most 
dazzling  to  men.  What  he  desires  is  a  pure  inten- 
tion, true  docility,  and  a  sincere  self-renunciation. 
All  this  is  exercised  more  frequently,  and  in  a  way 
that  tries  us  more  severely,  on  common  than  on 
great  occasions.  Sometimes  we  cling  more  tena- 
ciously to  a  trifle  than  to  a  great  interest.  It  would 
give  us  more  pain  to  relinquish  an  amusement  than 
to  bestow  a  great  sum  in  charity.  We  are  more 
easily  led  away  by  little  things,  because  we  believe 
them  more  innocent,  and  imagine  that  we  are  less 
attached  to  them  ;  nevertheless,  when  God  deprives 
us  of  them,  we  soon  discover,  from  the  pain  of  pri- 
vation, how  excessive  and  inexcusable  was  our 
attachment  to  them.  The  sincerity  of  our  piety  is 
also  impeached  by  the  neglect  of  minor  duties. 
What  probability  is  there,  that  we  should  not 
hesitate  to  make  great  sacrifices;  when  we  shrink 
from  slight  ones  ? 

But  what  is  most  dangerous  to  the  mind,  is  the 
habit  it  acquires  of  unfaithfulness.  True  love  to 
God  thinks  nothing  small.  All  that  can  please  or 
displease  him  is  great.  It  does  not  produce  con- 
straint and  weak  scruples,  but  it  places  no  limits 
to  its  fidelity ;  it  acts  with  simplicity,  and  as  it  is 
not  embarrassed  with  things  that  God  has  not  com- 


UPON    FIDELITY    IN    LITTLE    THINGS.  137 

mancled,  it  never  hesitates  a  moment  about  what 
he  does  command,  whether  it  be  great  or  small. 

Those  persons  who  are  naturally  less  exact,  ought 
to  make  an  inviolable  law  with  themselves  about  tri- 
fles. They  are  tempted  to  despise  them  ;  they  have 
a  habit  of  thinking  them  of  no  consequence  ;  they 
are  not  aware  of  the  insensible  growth  of  the  pas- 
sions ;  they  forget  even  their  own  most  fatal  expe- 
rience. They  trust  to  a  delusive  courage,  though 
it  has  before  failed  them,  for  the  support  of  their 
fidelity. 

"  It  is  a  trifle,"  they  say,  "  it  is  nothing."  True  ; 
but  it  is  a  nothing  that  will  be  everything  to  you, 
a  trifle  that  you  prefer  to  the  will  of  God,  a  trifle 
that  will  be  your  ruin.  There  is  no  real  elevation 
of  mind  in  a  contempt  of  little  things  ;  it  is,  on  the 
contrary,  from  too  narrow  views,  that  we  consider 
those  things  of  little  importance,  which  have  in 
fact  such  extensive  consequences.  The  more  apt 
we  are  to  neglect  small  things,  the  more  we  ought 
to  fear  the  eff'ects  of  this  negligence,  be  watchful 
over  ourselves,  and  place  around  us,  if  possible, 
some  insurmountable  barrier  to  this  remissness.  Do 
not  let  us  be  troubled  at  this  constant  attention  to 
trifles  ;  at  first  it  will  require  courage  to  maintain  it. 
but  it  is  a  penance  that  we  have  need  of,  and  that 
will  at  last  bring  us  peace  and  serenity.  God  will 
gradually  render  this  state  pleasant  and  easy  to  us. 


12* 


138  ON    SIMPLICITY. 


ON    SIMPLICITY. 


There  is  a  simplicity  that  is  a  defect,  and  a 
simplicity  that  is  a  great  virtue.  Simplicity  may 
be  a  want  of  discernment.  When  we  speak  of  a 
person  as  simple,  we  may  mean  that  he  is  credu- 
lous, and  perhaps  vulgar.  The  simplicity  that  is  a 
virtue, 'is  something  sublime  ;  every  one  loves  and 
admires  it ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  say  exactly  what 
this  virtue  is. 

'  Simplicity  is  an  uprightness  of  soul  that  has  no 
reference  to  self;  it  is  different  from  sincerity,  and 
it  is  a  still  higher  virtue.  We  see  many  people 
Avho  are  sincere,  without  being  simple  ;  they  only 
wish  to  pass  for  what  they  are,  and  they  are  unwill- 
ing to  appear  what  they  are  not ;  they  are  always 
thinking  of  themselves,  measuring  their  Avords,  and 
recalling  their  thoughts,  and  revieAving  their  actions, 
from  the  fear  that  they  have  done  too  much  or  too 
little.  These  persons  are  sincere,  but  they  are  not 
simple ;  they  arc  not  at  ease  with  others,  and  oth- 
ers arc  not  at  case  with  them ;  they  are  not  free, 
ingenuous,  natural ;  we  prefer  people  who  are  less 
correct,  less  perfect,  and  who  are  less  artificial. 
This  is  the  decision  of  man,  and  it  is  the  judg- 
ment of  God,  who  would  not  have  us  so  occupied 
with  ourselves,  and  thus,  as  it  were,  always  arrang- 
ing our  features  in  a  mirror. 

To  be  Avholly  occupied  with    others,  never  to 


ON    SIMPLICITY. 


139 


look  within,  is  the  state  of  blindness  of  those  who 
are  entirely  engrossed  by  what  is  present  and  ad- 
dressed to  their  senses  :  this  is  the  very  reverse  of 
simplicity.  To  be  absorbed  in  self  in  whatever 
engages  us,  whether  we  are  laboring  for  our  fellow- 
beings,  or  for  God,  to  be  wise  in  our  own  eyes,  re- 
served, and  full  of  ourselves,  troubled  at  the  least 
thing  that  disturbs  our  self-complacency,  is  the 
opposite  extreme.  This  is  false  Avisdom,  which, 
with  all  its  glory,  is  but  little  less  absurd  than  that 
folly  Avhich  pursues  only  pleasure.  The  one  is 
intoxicated  with  all  that  it  sees  around  it ;  the  other 
with  all  that  it  imagines  it  has  within  ;  but  it  is 
delirium  in  both.  To  be  absorbed  in  the  contem- 
plation of  our  own  minds,  is  really  Avorse  than  to 
be  engrossed  by  out\A"ard  things,  because  it  appears 
like  Avisdom,  and  yet  is  not  ;  Ave  do  not  think  of 
curing  it ;  Ave  pride  ourselv^es  upon  it;  Ave  approve 
of  it  ;  it  gives  us  an  unnatural  strength  ;  it  is  a  sort 
of  frenzy  ;  Ave  are  not  conscious  of  it ;  Ave  are  dying, 
and  Ave  think  ourselves  in  health. 

Simplicity  consists  in  a  just  medium,  in  AA'^hich 
Ave  are  neither  too  much  excited,  nor  too  composed. 
The  soul  is  not  carried  aAvay  by  outward  things, 
so  that  it  cannot  make  all  necessary  reflections  ; 
neither  does  it  make  those  continual  references  to 
self,  that  a  jealous  sense  of  its  OAvn  excellence  mul- 
tiplies to  infinity.  That  freedom  of  the  soul, 
Avhich  looks  straight  ouAvard  in  its  path,  losing  no 
time  to  reason  upon  its  steps,  to  study  them,  or  to 


140  ON    SIMPLICITY. 

contemplate  those  that  it  has  ah'eady  taken,  is  true 
simplicity". 

The  first  step  in  the  progress  of  the  soul  is  dis- 
engagement from  outward  things,  that  it  may  en- 
ter into  itself,  and  contemplate  its  true  interests : 
this  is  a  wise  self-love.  The  second  is,  to  join  to 
this  the  idea  of  God  whom  it  fears :  this  is  the 
feeble  beginning  of  true  wisdom ;  but  the  soul  is 
still  fixed  upon  itself:  it  is  afraid  that  it  does  not 
fear  God  enough :  it  is  still  thinking  of  itself. 
These  anxieties  about  ourselves  are  far  removed 
from  that  peace  and  liberty,  which  a  true  and  sim- 
ple love  inspires ;  but  it  is  not  yet  time  for  this  ; 
the  soul  must  pass  through  this  trouble  ;  this  opera- 
tion of  the  Spirit  of  God  in  our  hearts  comes  to  us 
gradually  ;  we  approach  step  by  step  to  this  sim- 
l^licity.  In  the  third  and  last  state,  we  begin  to 
think  of  God  more  frequently,  we  think  of  our- 
selves less,  and  insensibly  we  lose  ourselves  in  him. 

The  more  gentle  and  docile  the  soul  is,  the  more 
it  advances  in  this  simplicity.  It  does  not  become 
blind  to  its  own  defects,  and  unconscious  of  its 
imperfections ;  it  is  more  than  ever  sensible  of 
them  ;  it  feels  a  horror  of  the  slightest  sin  ;  it  sees 
more  clearly  its  own  corruption  ;  but  this  sensibility 
does  not  arise  from  dwelling  upon  itself,  but  by  the 
liglit  from  tlic  presence  of  God  we  see  how  far 
removed  we  are  from  infinite  purity. 

Thus  simplicity  is  free  in  its  course,  since  it 
makes  no  preparation ;  but  it  can  only  belong  to 


ON    SIMPLICITY. 


141 


the  soul  that  is  purified  by  a  true  penitence.  It 
must  be  the  fruit  of  a  perfect  renunciation  of  self, 
and  an  unreserved  love  of  God.  But  though  they, 
who  become  penitents,  and  tear  themselves  from 
the  vanities  of  the  world,  make  self  the  object  of 
thought,  yet  they  must  avoid  an  excessive  and  un- 
quiet occupation  with  themselves,  such  as  would 
trouble,  and  embarrass,  and  retard  them  in  their 
progress.  Dwelling  too  much  upon  self,  produces 
in  weak  minds  useless  scruples  and  superstition, 
and  in  stronger  minds  a  presumptuous  wisdom. 
Both  are  contrary  to  true  simplicity,  which  is  free 
and  direct,  and  gives  itself  up,  without  reserve  and 
with  a  generous  self-forgetfulness,  to  the  Father 
of  spirits.  How  free,  how  intrepid  are  the  motions, 
how  glorious  the  progress  that  the  soul  makes, 
when  delivered  from  all  low,  and  interested,  and 
unquiet  cares. 

If  Ave  desire  that  our  friends  be  simple  and  free 
Avith  us,  disencumbered  of  self  in  their  intimacy 
with  us,  will  it  not  please  God,  who  is  our  truest 
friend,  that  we  should  surrender  our  souls  to  him, 
without  fear  or  reserve,  in  that  holy  and  SAveet 
communion  Avith  himself  Avhich  he  alloAvs  us?  It 
is  this  simplicity,  Avhich  is  the  perfection  of  the 
true  children  of  God.  This  is  the  end  that  we 
must  have  in  vicAV,  and  to  which  Ave  must  be  con- 
tinually advancing. 

This  deliverance  of  the  soul  from  all  useless,  and 
selfish,  and  unquiet  cares,  brings  to  it  a  peace  and 


142  ON    SIMPLICITV. 

freedom  that  are  unspeakahle ;  this  is  true  sim- 
phcity.  It  is  easy  to  perceive,  at  the  first  glance, 
how  glorious  it  is ;  but  experience  alone  can  make 
us  comprehend  the  enlargement  of  heart  that  it 
joroduces.  We  are  then  like  a  child  in  the  arms 
of  its  parent ;  we  wish  nothing  more,  we  fear 
nothing,  we  yield  ourselves  up  to  this  pure  attach- 
ment, we  are  not  anxious  about  what  others  think 
of  us,  all  our  motions  are  free,  graceful  and  happy. 
We  do  not  judge  ourselves,  and  we  do  not  fear  to 
be  judged.  Let  us  strive  after  this  lovely  sim- 
plicity ;  let  us  seek  the  path  that  leads  to  it.  The 
farther  we  are  from  it,  the  more  we  must  hasten 
our  steps  towards  it.  Very  far  from  being  simple, 
most  Christians  are  not  even  sincere.  They  are 
not  only  disingenuous,  but  they  are  false,  and  they 
dissemble  with  their  neighbor,  with  God,  and  with 
themselves.  They  practise  a  thousand  little  arts 
that  indirectly  distort  the  truth.  Alas  !  every  man 
is  a  liar ;  those  even  who  are  naturally  upright, 
sincere,  and  ingenuous,  and  who  are  what  is  called 
simple  and  Jiatural,  still  have  this  jealous  and  sen- 
sitive reference  to  self  in  everything,  which  secretly 
nourishes  pride,  and  prevents  that  true  simplicity, 
which  is  the  renunciation  and  perfect  oblivion  of 
self. 

But  it  will  be  said,  How  can  I  help  being  occu- 
pied with  myself?  A  crowd  of  selfish  fears  trouble 
me,  and  tyrannize  over  my  mind,  and  excite  a  lively 
Bcnsibility.     The  principal  means  to  cure  this  is  to 


ON    SIMPLICITY. 


143 


yield  yourself  up  sincerely  taGod,  to  place  all  your 
interests,  pleasures,  and  reputation  in  his  hands,  to 
receive  all  the  sufferings  that  he  may  inflict  upon 
you  in  this  scene  of  humiliation,  as  trials  and  tests 
of  your  love  to  him,  neither  to  fear  the  scrutiny, 
nor  to  avoid  the  censure  of  mankind.  This  state 
of  willing  acquiescence  produces  true  liberty,  and 
this  liberty  brings  perfect  simplicity.  A  soul  that 
is  liberated  from  the  little  earthly  interests  of  self- 
love,  becomes  confiding,  and  moves  straight  onward, 
and  its  views  expand  even  to  infinity,  just  in  pro- 
portion as  its  forgetfuhiess  of  self  increases,  and  its 
peace  is  profound  even  in  the  midst  of  trouble. 

I  have  already  said,  that  the  opinion  of  the  world 
conforms  to  the  judgment  of  God,  upon  this  noble 
simplicity.  The  world  admires,  even  in  its  vota- 
ries, the  free  and  easy  manners  of  a  person  who 
has  lost  sight  of  self.  But  the  simplicity,  which  is 
produced  by  a  devotion  to  external  things,  still 
more  vain  than  self,  is  not  the  true  simplicity  ;  it 
is  only  an  image  of  it,  and  cannot  represent  its 
greatness.  They  who  cannot  find  the  substance, 
pursue  the  shadow ;  and  shadow  as  it  is,  it  has  a 
charm,  for  it  has  some  resemblance  to  the  reality 
that  they  have  lost.  A  person  full  of  defects,  who 
does  not  attempt  to  hide  them,  who  does  not  seek 
to  dazzle,  who  does  not  affect  either  talents  or  vir- 
tue, who  does  not  appear  to  think  of  himself  more 
than  of  others,  but  to  have  lost  sight  of  this  self 
of  which  we  are  so  jealous,  pleases  greatly  in  spite 


144  -  ON    SIMPLICITY. 

of  his  defects.  This  false  simplicity  is  taken  for 
the  true.  On  the  contrary,  a  person  full  of  talents, 
of  virtues,  and  of  exterior  graces,  if  he  appear  arti- 
ficial, if  he  be  thinking  of  himself,  if  he  affect  the 
very  best  things,  is  a  tedious  and  wearisome  com- 
panion that  no  one  likes. 

Nothing,  then,  we  grant,  is  more  lovely  and 
grand  than  simplicity.  But  some  will  say.  Must 
we  never  think  of  self?  We  need  not  practise  this 
constraint ;  in  trying  to  be  simple  we  may  lose  sim- 
plicity. What  then  must  we  do  ?  Make  no  rule 
about  it,  but  be  satisfied  that  you  affect  nothing. 
When  you  are  disposed  to  speak  of  yourself  from 
vanity,  you  can  only  repress  this  strong  desire,  by 
thinking  of  God,  or  of  what  you  are  called  upon 
by  him  to  do.  Simj^licity  does  not  consist  in  false 
shame  or  false  modesty,  any  more  than  in  pride  or 
vain-glory.  When  vanity  would  lead  to  egotism, 
we  have  only  to  turn  from  self;  when,  on  the  con- 
trary, there  is  a  necessity  of  speaking  of  ourselves, 
we  must  not  reason  too  much  about  it,  Ave  must 
look  straight  at  the  end.  But  what  will  they  think 
of  me  ?  They  will  think  I  am  boasting ;  I  shall 
be  suspected  in  speaking  so  freely  of  my  own  con- 
cerns. None  of  these  unquiet  reflections  should 
trouble  us  for  one  moment.  Let  us  speak  freely, 
ingenuously,  and  simply  of  ourselves,  when  we  are 
called  upon  to  speak.  It  is  thus  that  St.  Paul  spoke 
often  in  liis  epistles.  What  true  greatness  there  is 
in  speaking  with  simplicity  of  one's  self.     Vain 


ON    SIM^LICIT\^ 


145 


glory  is  sometimes  hidden  under  an  air  of  modesty 
and  reserve.  People  do  not  wish  to  proclaim  their 
own  merit,  but  they  would  be  very  glad  that  others 
should  discover  it.  They  would  have  the  reputa- 
tion botli  of  virtue  and  of  the  desire  to  hide  it. 

As  to  the  matter  of  speaking  against  ourselves, 
I  do  not  either  blame  or  recommend  it.  When  it 
arises  from  true  simplicity,  and  that  hatred  with 
which  God  inspires  us  of  our  sins,  it  is  admirable, 
and  thus  I  regard  it  in  many  holy  men.  Ent  usu- 
ally the  surest  and  most  simple  way  is  not  to  speak 
unnecessarily  of  one's  self,  either  good  or  evil. 
Self-love  often  prefers  abuse  to  oblivion  and  silence  ; 
and  when  we  have  often  spoken  ill  of  ourselves, 
we  are  quite  ready  to  be  reconciled,  just  like  angry 
lovers,  who,  after  a  quarrel,  redouble  their  blind 
devotion  to  each  other. 

This  simplicity  is  manifested  in  the  exterior. 
As  the  mind  is  freed  from  this  idea  of  self,  we  act 
more  naturally,  all  art  ceases,  we  act  rightly,  with- 
out thinking  of  what  we  are  doing,  by  a  sort  of 
directness  of  purpose,  that  is  inexplicable  to  those 
who  have  no  experience  of  it.  To  some  we  may 
appear  less  simple  than  those  who  have  a  more 
grave  and  practised  manner ;  but  these  are  people 
of  bad  taste,  who  take  the  affectation  of  modesty 
for  modesty  itself,  and  who  have  no  knowledge  of 
true  simplicity.  This  true  simplicity  has  some- 
times a  careless  and  irregular  appearance,  but  it 
has  the  charm  of  truth  and  candor,  and  sheds 
13 


146  DIRECTIONS    FOR   THE 

around  it,  I  know  not  what  of  pure  and  innocent, 
of  cheerful  and  peaceful ;  a  loveliness  that  wins 
us  when  we  see  it  intimately  and  with  pure  eyes. 
How  desirable  is  this  simplicity !  who  will  give 
it  to  me  ?  I  will  quit  all  else  ;  it  is  the  pearl  of 
great  price. 


FROM    THE    DIRECTIONS    FOR    THE    CONSCIENCE 
OF   A    KING. 

COMPOSED    FOR    THE    DUKE    OF    BURGUNDY. 

It  is  commonly  said,  that  the  private  vices  of 
kings  are  less  injurious  than  the  mistakes  they 
make  as  rulers.  For  my  own  part,  I  boldly  assert 
the  contrary ;  and  I  insist,  that  all  their  defects  as 
men,  are  of  infinite  importance  to  the  community. 
Examine  your  actions,  then,  in  detail.  Subjects 
are  servile  imitators  of  their  rulers,  especially  when 
the  passions  are  concerned.  Have  you  then  set 
any  example  of  a  criminal  love  ?  If  you  have, 
your  authority  has  given  distinction  to  infamy; 
you  have  broken  down  the  barriers  of  honor  and 
decency ;  you  liave  afforded  a  triumph  to  vice  and 
impudence  ;  you  have  taught  your  subjects  not  to 
blush  at  what  is  disgraceful.  Fatal  lesson,  that 
they  will  never  forget!     It  would  be  better,  said 


CONSCIENCE    OF    A    KING.  147 

Jesns  Christ,  to  be  thrown  with  a  mill-stone  round 
your  neck  into  the  depth  of  the  sea,  than  to  cause 
one  of  these  little  ones  to  offend. 

Vice  is  in  itself  a  contagious  poison.  Human 
nature  is  always  liable  to  the  contamination :  it  is 
ever  ready  to  break  the  yoke  of  modesty.  A  spark 
causes  a  flame.  A  single  action  of  a  king  may 
produce  an  increase  and  succession  of  crimes  through 
many  nations,  and  through  distant  ages.  Have  you 
not  given  any  of  these  fatal  examples  ?  Can  you 
think  that  your  irregularity  will  be  secret  ?  O  no ! 
the  crimes  of  rulers  are  never  secret.  Their  good 
actions  may  be  hidden ;  people  are  slow  to  believe 
them ;  but  evil  is  believed  upon  the  slightest  sus- 
picion. Have  you  discountenanced  irreligion  in 
its  lightest  expression  ?  Have  you  manifested  your 
indignation  at  impiety  ?  Have  you  made  it  felt, 
and  left  no  one  to  doubt  your  sentiments  ?  Have 
you  never  been  influenced  by  a  false  shame,  that 
has  made  you  blush  for  the  gospel  ?  Have  you 
shown,  by  your  conversation  and  actions,  your  sin- 
cere faith  and  zeal  for  Christianity  ?  Have  you 
used  your  authority  to  silence  impiety  ?  Have  you 
shrunk  with  horror  from  immodest  levity,  equivocal 
expressions,  and  all  other  marks  of  licentiousness? 

Have  you  committed  no  injustice  towards  foreign 
nations?  The  poor-  wretch,  who,  from  extreme 
necessity,  steals  a  purse  upon  the  highway,  is 
hanged ;  while  the  man  who  unjustly  subjugates 
a  neighboring  state,  is  called  a  hero.     The  unlaw- 


148  DIRECTIONS    FOR    THE 

ful  seizure  of  a  meadow  or  a  vineyard,  is  regarded 
as  an  offence  against  God  ;  but  no  account  is  made 
of  taking  possession  of  cities  and  provinces.  To 
take  a  field  from  an  individual,  is  a  great  sin ;  to 
taJce  a  country  from  a  nation,  is  an  innocent  and 
glorious  action.  Whence  are  these  ideas  of  jus- 
tice ?  Will  God  judge  thus  ?  Ought  we  to  be  less 
just  in  great,  than  in  little  things?  Is  not  justice 
still  justice,  when  great  interests  are  at  stake  ? 
Should  we  not  have  some  scruples  about  commit- 
ting a  crime  against  a  million  of  men,  against  a 
whole  country,  when  we  dare  not  injure  an  indi- 
vidual ?  All,  then,  that  is  taken  by  mere  conquest, 
is  taken  unjustly,  and  ought  to  be  restored.  A 
treaty  of  peace,  that  is  made  from  necessity,  be- 
cause one  party  is  the  stronger,  is  like  that  which 
is  made  with  a  robber,  who  has  his  pistol  at  your 
head.  Your  enemy  is  your  brother  ;  you  cannot 
forget  this,  without  forgetting  all  humanity.  You 
have  no  right  to  do  him  any  harm  when  you  can 
avoid  it.  You  have  no  right  to  take  up  arms 
against  him,  but  in  extreme  necessity.  And  in 
making  a  treaty  with  him,  it  is  no  longer  a  ques- 
tion of  war,  of  arms,  but  of  peace,  justice,  humanity, 
and  good  faith.  And  it  is  more  infamous  to  de- 
ceive in  a  treaty  of  peace  with  a  nation,  than  in  a 
private  contract  with  an  individual. 


CONSCIENCE    OF    A    KING.  149 


FROM    A    LETTER    TO    THE    DUKE    OF    BURGUNDY,    UPON    THE 
SAME    SUBJECT. 

Never  let  your  high  rank  prevent  the  exercise 
of  kindness  to  the  most  insignificant.  Put  your- 
self in  their  place  ;  and  this  condescension  will  not 
lessen  your  authority  or  their  respect.  Study  men 
always ;  learn  how  to  make  use  of  them  without 
familiarity.  Seek  merit,  though  it  should  be  in  the 
most  obscure  corner  of  the  world :  it  is  usually 
modest  and  retired.  Virtue  cannot  penetrate  the 
crowd  ;  it  has  neither  eagerness  nor  presumption  : 
it  allows  itself  to  be  forgotten. 

Do  not  be  subdued  by  the  artful  and  by  flatterers. 
Let  them  feel  that  you  do  not  love  either  their 
praises  or  their  meanness.  Put  trust  only  in  those, 
who  have  the  courage  to  contradict  3^ou  with  re- 
spect, and  who  value  your  character  more  than 
your  favor.  Let  all  the  world  see,  that  you  think 
and  feel  as  a  prince  should  think  and  feel.  It  is 
important,  that  the  good  love  you,  that  the  wicked 
fear  you,  and  that  all  esteem  you.  Make  haste 
then  to  correct  yourself,  that  you  may  labor  suc- 
cessfully to  improve  others. 

True  piety  has  in  it  nothing  weak,  nothing  sad, 
nothing  constrained.  It  enlarges  the  heart  ,•  it  is 
simple,  free,  and  attractive.  The  kingdom  of  God 
does  not  consist  in  a  scrupulous  observance  of  tri- 
fling formalities;  it  is  in  each  individual  the  per- 
13* 


150  ADVICE. 

formance  of  the  duties  that  belong  to  his  condition. 
A  great  prince  ought  not  to  serve  God  in  the  same 
manner  as  a  hermit,  or  a  private  individual. 


Feeling  as  affectioniite  an  interest  in  the  happiness  of  tlie  whole 
human  race  as  in  his  own  nation  in  particular,  and  being  as  true 
an  enemy  to  persecution  as  he  was  a  sincere  friend  to  justice  and 
equity,  the  following  was  the  wise  advice  that  Fenelon  gave  to 
the  Chevalier  St.  George,  when  he  visited  him  at  Cambrai,  in 
1709—10. 

Above  all  things  never  compel  your  subjects  to 
change  their  religion.  No  human  poorer  can  force 
the  impenetrable  intrenchments  of  liberty  in  the 
human  heart.  Force  can  never  persuade  men :  it 
can  only  make  hypocrites.  When  kings  interfere 
with  religion,  instead  of  protecting  it,  they  enslave 
it.  Grant  to  all  religions  a  political  toleration  ;  not 
equally  approving  of  all,  as  if  your  were  inditferent, 
but  patiently  allowing  all  that  God  allows,  and  en- 
deavoring to  lead  men  by  gentle  persuasion. 

Study  the  advantages  of  the  peculiar  form  of  gov- 
ernment of  your  own  country,  and  the  sentiments 
you  ought  to  cherish  towards  your  senate.  This 
tribunal  can  do  nothing  without  you.  Have  you 
not  tlicn  suflicicnt  power?  You  can  do  nothing 
without  their  consent.  Are  you  not  happy  that 
you  are  at  liberty  to  do  good,  and  not  free  to  do 


on    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIKLS.  151 

evil  ?  Every  wise  prince  should  rejoice  to  be  only 
the  executor  of  the  laws,  and  to  have  a  supreme 
council  who  can  moderate  his  authority.  The 
paternal  relation  is  the  true  model  for  govern- 
ments ;  and  every  good  father  acts  in  concert  with 
his  wdsest  and  most  experienced  children. 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS. 

Nothing  is  more  neglected  than  the  education  of 
girls.  Custom  and  the  caprice  of  mothers  deter- 
mine it  altogether,  A  careful  education  of  boys  is 
thought  necessary  for  the  public  good ;  though  it 
is  frequently  as  defective  as  that  of  girls.  Women 
in  general  have  feebler  minds  than  men ;  the  weaker 
the  mind  is,  the  more  important  it  is  to  fortify  it. 
They  have  not  only  duties  to  fulfil,  but  duties 
which  form  the  basis  of  social  life.  Is  it  not  wo- 
men, who  are  the  blessing  or  the  ruin  of  families ; 
who  regulate  the  detail  of  domestic  affairs  ;  and 
who,  of  course,  govern  what  most  nearly  relates  to 
man  ?  Thus  they  have  a  decided  influence  on  the 
happiness  or  unhappiness  of  those  wiio  are  con- 
nected wnth  them.  A  judicious,  industrious,  reli- 
gious woman  is  the  soul  of  her  family.  Men,  who 
exercise  authority  in  public,  cannot  by  their  delib- 
erations affect  the  general  good,  if  women  do  not 


152  ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS. 

aid  them.  The  occupations  of  women  are  not  less 
important  to  the  pubUc  than  those  of  men :  they 
have  famiUes  to  govern,  husbands  to  make  happy, 
and  children  to  educate. 

It  is  ignorance  which  renders  women  frivolous. 
When  they  have  arrived  at  a  certain  age,  without 
habits  of  application,  they  cannot  acquire  a  taste 
for  it ;  whatever  is  serious  appear  to  them  sad  ; 
whatever  demands  continued  attention  fatigues 
them.  The  inclination  for  amusement,  which  is 
strong  in  youth,  and  the  example  of  persons  of  the 
same  age,  who  are  devoted  to  pleasure,  have  in- 
spired them  with  a  dread  of  an  orderly  and  laborious 
life.  At  an  early  age,  they  want  that  experience 
and  authority  that  would  make  them  useful  at 
home.  They  do  not  understand  the  importance  of 
domestic  occupations,  unless  their  mothers  have 
taken  pains  to  instruct  them.  In  this  state  of  use- 
lessness,  a  girl  abandons  herself  to  indolence,  which 
is  a  languor  of  the  soul,  an  inexhaustible  source 
of  ennui.  She  accustoms  herself  to  sleep  a  third 
more  than  is  necessary  for  the  preservation  of  health : 
too  much  sleep  enfeebles  her,  renders  her  delicate  j 
whereas  moderate  sleep,  accompanied  by  regular 
exercise,  wonld  produce  gayety  and  strength,  form- 
ing the  true  perfection  of  the  body,  to  say  nothing  of 
its  influence  on  the  mind.  Idleness  and  weakness 
thus  being  united  to  ignorance,  there  arises  from 
this  union  a  pernicious  taste  for  amusements. 
Girls  brought  up  in  this  idle  way  have  an  ill  regu- 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIULS.  153 

lated  imagination.  Their  curiosity,  not  being  di- 
rected to  substantial  things,  is  turned  towards  vain 
and  dangerous  objects.  They  read  books  which 
nourish  their  vanity,  and  become  passionately  fond 
of  romances,  comedies,  and  fanciful  adventures. 
Their  minds  become  visionary ;  they  accustom 
themselves  to  the  extravagant  language  of  the  hero- 
ines of  romance,  and  are  spoiled  for  common  life. 
To  remedy  all  these  evils,  it  is  necessary  to  be- 
gin the  education  of  girls  with  their  earliest  infan- 
cy. At  that  tender  age,  when  they  are  left  to  the 
care  of  weak  and  often  of  unprincipled  women, 
the  deepest  impressions  are  sometimes  made ;  im- 
pressions, which  have  an  influence  during  life. 
Before  children  can  speak,  we  may  instruct  them. 
They  are  learning  a  language,  which  they  will 
soon  speak  with  more  correctness,  than  scholars 
acquire  in  the  use  of  languages  which  they  have 
studied,  at  a  more  mature  age.  For  what  is  learn- 
ing a  language  ?  It  is  not  merely  crowding  the 
memory  with  words ;  it  is  observing  the  sense  of 
each  particular  word.  The  child,  in  the  midst  of 
its  cries  and  plays,  notices  of  what  object  each 
word  is  the  sign.  It  makes  this  observation  some- 
times in  considering  the.natural  movements  of  bod- 
ies which  it  touches  or  sees.  It  is  true  that  the 
minds  of  children'have  an  admirable  facility  to  re- 
ceive impressions  from  images.  Thus  you  may 
give  them,  by  the  assistance  of  tones  and  gestures, 
an  inclination  to  be  with  honest  and  virtuous  per- 


154  ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS. 

sons  ;  and  by  the  different  expressions  of  the  coun- 
tenance and  the  tone  of  the  voice,  inspire  a  dread 
of  those  whom  they  have  seen  angry.  I  speak  of 
these  little  things  as  important,  for  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  deep  impressions  can  thus  be  made  on 
the  minds  of  children.  It  is  desirable  that  instruc- 
tion should  not  be  forced  on  children ;  that  every- 
thing should  be  avoided  that  tends  to  excite  the 
passions ;  that  they  should  gently  be  deprived  of 
whatever  they  desire  with  too  much  ardor.  If  the 
disposition  of  a  child  is  good,  we  may  thus  render  it 
docile,  patient,  firm,  gay,  and  tranquil;  whereas,  if 
this  early  period  is  neglected,  it  will  become  impet- 
uous and  irritable  through  life.  Its  habits  are 
forming  ;  and  its  soul,  which  has  no  bias  towards 
any  particular  object,  easily  turns  to  evil.  At  a 
more  advanced  age,  when  reason  is  developing  it- 
self, every  word  we  say  should  tend  to  inspire  a 
love  of  truth,  and  a  contempt  for  every  kind  of  dis- 
simulation, 

Wc  should  never  coax  children ;  if  we  do,  we 
teach  them  to  disguise  the  truth,  and  they  never 
forget  it.  We  must  lead  them  by  reason  as  much 
as  possible.  They  observe  everything.  We  must 
acustom  them  to  speak  little.  The  pleasure  we 
derive  from  ])layfal  children  often  spoils  them.  We 
teach  them  to  say  everything  that  comes  into  their 
minds ;  to  speak  of  things,  of  which  they  have  no 
distinct  idea.  This  habit  of  judging  with  precipi- 
tation, of  speaking  of  things  without  understand- 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS.  155 

ing  them,  remains  during  the  rest  of  their  lives, 
and  forms  a  very  defective  order  of  mind. 

We  must  take  care  of  children,  without  letting 
them  perceive  that  we  think  of  them  ;  let  them  see, 
that  it  is  your  love  and  their  helplessness,  that 
makes  you  attend  to  them,  and  not  their  merits. 
Content  yourself  with  forming  them  by  little  and 
little  ;  even  when  you  can  advance  the  mind  of  a 
child  very  far,  without  forcing  it,  you  ought  to  fear 
to  do  it ;  for  the  danger  of  vanity  and  presumption 
always  outweighs  the  advantage  of  that  premature 
education,  which  makes  so  much  noise.  We  must 
content  ourselves  with  following  and  aiding  nature. 
Children,  being  ignorant,  have  many  questions  to 
ask :  we  must  answer  them  correctly,  and  some- 
times add  little  comparisons,  in  order  to  illustrate 
our  meaning.  If  they  judge  of  anything,  without 
understanding  it  well,  we  must  try  them  by  diffi- 
cult questions,  in  order  to  make  them  feel  their 
ignorance,  without  discouraging  them ;  and  at  the 
same  time  we  must  make  them  perceive,  not  by 
vague  praises,  but  by  some  decided  mark  of  esteem, 
that  we  approve  of  them,  if,  when  they  are  in 
doubt,  they  ask  an  explanation  of  what  they  do 
not  understand,  and  then  decide  after  reflection. 
In  this  manner  we  may  gently  teach  them  to  be 
truly  modest.  From  the  time  that  their  reason  be- 
gins to  develop  itself,  we  must  guard  them  against 
presumption.  You  see,  you  will  say,  that  you  are 
better  able  to  exercise  your  reason  now,  than  you 


156  ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS. 

were  last  year  ;  in  a  year  more,  you  will  know 
things  which  you  are  not  capable  of  understanding 
now.  If  last  year  you  had  attempted  to  judge  of 
things  which  you  know  now,  but  of  which  you 
were  then  ignorant,  you  would  not  have  judged 
correctly.  We  commit  a  great  error  Avhen  we  pre- 
tend to  know  what  is  beyond  our  comprehension. 
The  curiosity  of  children  is  an  inclination  of  na- 
ture, which  anticipates  instruction.  We  must  not 
fail  to  profit  by  it.  For  example,  in  the  country 
they  see  a  mill,  and  they  wish  to  know  what  it  is : 
we  must  show  them  how  it  is  that  corn  is  thus  pre- 
pared for  man.  Tiiey  perceive  reapers  :  we  must 
explain  to  them  what  they  do  ;  how  corn  is  sowed 
and  multiplied  in  the  earth.  If  you  are  in  the  city, 
surrounded  by  shops  where  several  arts  are  exer- 
cised, and  ditferent  kinds  of  merchandise  are  sold, 
you  must  not  be  impatient  at  their  questions  ;  they 
are  so  many  openings  that  nature  offers  you  to  fa- 
cilitate instruction.  Listen  to  them  with  pleasure  ; 
by  this  means  you  will  insensibly  teach  them  how 
all  those  things  are  made,  Avhich  man  uses.  Thus, 
gradually,  without  a  particular  study,  they  will 
learn  the  best  manner  of  doing  things,  and  the  just 
value  of  each.  Such  knowledge  should  not  be  de- 
spised, since  every  one  ought  to  be  secure  against 
imposition  in  his  expenses.  I  think  it  is  desirable 
to  use  indirect  teaching,  to  awaken  the  attention  of 
children.  Lot  us  mingle  instruction  with  their 
plays  ;  let  Wisdom  show  herself  to  them,  but  at 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS.  157 

intervals,  and  with  a  smiling  face.  Beware  of  fa- 
tiguing them  by  ill-judged  exactness.  If  virtue 
offer  itself  to  a  child  under  a  melancholy  and  con- 
strained aspect,  if  liberty  and  license  present  them- 
selves under  an  agreeable  form,  all  is  lost,  your  la- 
bor is  in  vain. 

Never  permit  a  child  to  be  flattered  by  its  attend- 
ants :  we  adopt  the  manners  and  the  sentiments 
of  those  whom  we  love.  The  pleasure  they  find 
in  the  society  of  ill-bred  people,  gradually  induces 
them  to  tolerate  what  they  should  despise.  In  or- 
der to  render  good  men  agreeable  to  children,  we 
should  lead  them  to  remark  what  is  amiable  in 
them,  their  sincerity,  modesty,  fidelity,  and  discre- 
tion, but  above  all,  their  piety,  which  is  the  source 
of  all  the  rest.  If  they  have  anything  in  their  man. 
ners  unpleasant,  say  to  them,  Piety  does  not  pro- 
duce faults  ;  when  it  is  perfect,  it  cures  them.  But 
after  all,  we  must  not  obstinately  endeavor  to  make 
them  like  good  people,  whose  manners  are  disa- 
greeable. It  is  important  for  teachers  to  know 
their  own  faults ;  ask  your  friends  to  point  them 
out  to  you.  Children  are  very  nice  observers,  and 
they  will  often  perceive  your  slightest  defects.  In 
general,  those  who  govern  children  forgive  nothing 
in  them,  but  everything  in  themselves.  This  ex- 
cites in  children  a  spirit  of  criticism  and  malignity, 
so  that  when  they  discover  a  fault  they  are  de- 
lighted. You  must  guard  against  this  evil.  Do 
not  be  afraid  of  speaking  of  faults  which  you  have 
14 


158  ON  THE  EDUCATION  OF  GIKLS, 

committed  before  a  child.  If  you  see  it  capable  of 
reasoning  on  the  subject,  say,  that  you  wish  to  set 
it  the  example  of  correcting  its  faults,  by  correcting 
your  own ;  your  imperfections  will  thus  be  the 
means  of  instructing  and  benefiting  your  child,  and 
you  will  avoid  the  contempt  you  would  otherwise 
awaken. 

At  the  same  time,  you  will  seek  every  means  to 
render  agreeable  all  that  you  exact.  If  you  have 
anything  tiresome  to  propose,  show  its  utility. 
We  must  always  present  to  children  the  attainment 
of  an  agreeable  or  useful  object,  and  never  attempt 
to  govern  them  by  harsh  and  absolute  authority. 
As  their  reason  strengthens,  we  should  reason  with 
them.  An  austere  and  imperious  air  must  be 
avoided,  except  in  cases  of  extreme  necessity,  for 
children  are  generally  timid  and  bashful.  Make 
them  love  you  ;  let  them  be  free  with  you ;  let 
them  not  hide  their  faults  from  you  ;  be  indulgent  to 
those  who  conceal  nothing  from  you.  Do  not  be 
astonished  at  their  failings ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
pity  their  weaknesses.  It  is  true,  that  this  treat- 
ment will  impose  less  the  restraint  of  fear,  but  it 
will  produce  confidence  and  sincerity.  We  must 
always  commence  with  a  conduct  open,  gay,  and 
familiar,  without  trifling.  By  this  means  we  learn 
to  understand  children,  and  know  their  real  charac- 
ters; whereas,  if  we  subject  them  to  obedience 
merely  to  aiUhority,  we  govern  by  fatiguing  forms, 
we  produce  a  disgust  of  virtue,  the  love  of  which 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS.  159 

it  should  be  our  first  object  to  inspire  in  them,  A 
child  of  lively  imagination  dislikes  virtue  and  study, 
because  it  dislikes  the  person  who  speaks  of  it  to 
them ;  and  this  severe  education  makes  it  retain 
through  life  painful  ideas  of  religion.  We  must 
often  tolerate  things  which  we  wish  to  correct,  and 
wait  for  the  moment  when  the  mind  of  the  child 
will  be  in  a  state  to  profit  by  instruction.  Never 
correct  it  in  anger  ;  if  you  do,  it  will  be  perceived, 
and  you  will  lose  your  authority.  Watch  for  the 
best  moment  to  correct  it.  Do  not  tell  it  of  its 
fault,  without  leaving  it  the  hope  of  improvement. 
We  ought  to  consider  that  children  are  weak  ;  that 
their  age  renders  them  extremely  sensible  to  pleas- 
ure ;  and  that  we  have  no  right  to  require  from 
them  more  than  they  can  give.  When  we  speak 
to  them  of  words  and  things  that  they  do  not 
understand,  we  often  leave  a  dangerous  impression 
of  ennui  and  sadness  on  their  minds. 

Though  we  cannot,  at  all  times,  avoid  employ- 
ing fear  in  the  government  of  unruly  children,  we 
must  never  have  recourse  to  it,  until  we  have  tried 
every  other  method.  We  should  always  make 
children  understand  why  we  make  use  of  fear ;  for 
joy  and  confidence  ought  to  be  habitually  cherished 
in  them,  otherwise  their  minds  will  become  dull, 
and  thus  will  lose  courage.  If  they  are  gay,  they 
will  be  irritated  ;  if  timid,  they  will  be  rendered 
stupid.  Like  all  violent  remedies,  fear  should 
never  be  employed  but  in  desperate  cases.     When 


160  ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS, 

we  punish  them,  the  suffering  should  be  as  light 
as  possible,  but  accompanied  by  every  circumstance 
which  can  inspire  the  child  with  shame  and  re- 
morse. Show  it  how  gladly  you  would  have 
avoided  coming  to  this  extremity ;  show  that  you 
suffer  also  ;  speak  before  the  child  to  others  of  the 
misfortune  of  being  so  deficient  in  reason  and  sen- 
sibility as  to  require  chastisement.  Omit  your  ac- 
customed marks  of  affection,  until  you  see  that  the 
child  requires  consolation  ;  make  its  punishment 
public  or  private,  as  you  shall  judge  will  be  most 
salutary. 

We  ought  to  adapt  general  rules  to  particular 
circumstances.  Neither  men  nor  children  always 
resemble  themselves.  What  is  good  to-day  is  dan- 
gerous to-morrow.  A  plan  of  conduct  that  never 
varies,  cannot  be  useful.  Forms  should  be  used 
as  little  as  possible,  in  their  lessons.  We  may  im- 
part instruction  more  useful  than  their  lessons  con- 
vey, by  our  conversation.  I  have  known  several 
children;  who  have  learned  to  read  as  a  play ; 
amusing  stories  have  been  read  to  them  ;  they  have 
gradually  learnt  their  letters ;  after  this,  they  have 
been  anxious  themselves  to  go  to  the  source  whence 
they  have  derived  so  much  pleasure.  The  greatest 
defect  of  common  education  is,  that  we  are  in  the 
habit  of  putting  pleasure  all  on  one  side,  and  weari- 
ness on  the  other ;  all  weariness  in  study,  all  pleasure 
in  idleness.  Let  us  try  to  change  this  association  ; 
let  us  render  studies  agreeable  ;  let  us  present  it 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS.  161 

under  the  aspect  of  liberty  and  pleasure  ;  let  us 
sometimes  permit  study  to  be  interrupted  by  little 
sallies  of  gayety.  These  interruptions  are  neces- 
sary to  relax  the  mind. 

We  must  acknowledge,  that  of  all  the  difficulties 
in  education,  none  are  comparable  to  that  of  edu- 
cating children  who  are  deficient  in  sensibility. 
Children  of  lively  sensibility  are  liable  to  terrible 
faults;  passion  and  presumption  lead  them  astray; 
but  they  possess  great  resources,  and  often  return 
from  afar.  Instruction  is  in  them  a  hidden  germ, 
which  springs  up  and  yields  fruit,  when  experience 
comes  to  the  assistance  of  reason.  At  all  events, 
we  can  render  them  attentive,  awaken  their  curi- 
osity, and  make  them  interested  in  our  instructions. 
We  can  stimulate  them  by  a  principle  of  honor. 
Whereas  on  indolent  minds  we  have  no  hold.  AU 
their  thoughts  are  w^andering;  they  are  never  where 
they  ought  to  be.  We  cannot  touch  them  to  the 
quick,  even  by  correction  ;  they  hear  all,  and  they 
feel  nothing.  The  best  education  will  be  thrown 
away,  if  we  do  not  begin  at  an  early  age  to  remedy 
this  evil. 

It  is  necessary  to  observe,  that  in  some  children 
we  are  very  much  deceived  at  first.  They  appear 
charming,  because  the  early  graces  of  infancy  throw 
a  lustre  over  all  their  conduct.  Every  trait  of  in- 
telligence that  we  see  in  them,  surprises  us,  because 
we  did  not  expect  it  at  that  age  ;  every  fault  of 
judgment  is  permitted,  and  in  our  eyes  has  the 
14* 


162  ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS. 

charm  of  ingenuousness :  we  mistake  animal  spirits 
for  intelligence.  Hence  it  is  that  promising  child- 
ren, who  are  celebrated  at  five  years  of  age,  fall 
into  neglect  and  are  forgotten  as  they  grow  older. 
Of  all  the  faculties  of  children,  reason  is  the  only 
one  on  which  we  can  depend ;  if  we  cultivate  it 
carefully,  it  always  grows  with  them.  The  graces 
of  childhood  pass  away  ;  vivacity  vanishes ;  even 
tenderness  of  heart  is  often  lost ;  for  the  passions 
and  the  society  of  men  insensibly  harden  the  young, 
in  their  intercourse  with  the  world.  Try  then  to 
discover,  through  the  graces  of  childhood,  whether 
the  character  you  have  to  form  be  wanting  in  curi- 
osity, and  insensible  to  virtuous  ambition.  In  this 
case  it  is  almost  impossible  for  those  who  have  the 
care  of  the  child,  not  to  be  disheartened  by  a  labor 
that  affords  so  little  interest.  We  must  hasten  to 
touch  all  the  springs  of  the  soul,  that  we  may 
awaken  it  from  this  slumber.  Be  careful  not  to 
fatigue  it,  not  to  overload  memory  ;  endeavor  to 
animate  it ;  do  not  fear  to  show  it  all  of  which 
it  is  capable.  Be  contented  with  little  progress  ; 
notice  its  slightest  success  ;  excite  its  ambition  ;  let 
it  see  the  error  of  distrusting  its  own  powers. 
Lead  the  child  to  laugh  freely  with  you,  at  its 
timidity ;  point  out  those,  whose  natural  character 
is  as  timid  as  its  own,  but  who  have  conquered 
their  temperament  ;  teach  it,  by  direct  instruction, 
th;it  timidity  and  idleness  paralyze  the  intellect, 
that  men  who  have  these  faults,  whatever  talents 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS.  1C3 

they  possess,  are  imbecile,  and  degrade  themselves. 
But  be  careful  not  to  give  these  instructions  in  an 
austere  and  impatient  tone  ;  for  nothing  sends  the 
feelings  back  to  the  heart  of  a  timid  child  like  harsh- 
ness. On  the  contrary,  redouble  your  efforts  to 
awaken  the  necessary  zeal,  by  pleasures  suited  to 
its  age  and  character.  We  must  endeavor  to  give 
to  children  of  this  class  a  taste  for  improvement ; 
we  must  let  them  pursue  whatever  may  cure  them 
of  their  disgust  to  study,  must  permit  some  in- 
fringement of  rules,  taking  care  that  they  do  not 
go  to  excess.  It  is  more  difficult  to  create  taste  in 
those  who  have  none,  than  to  regulate  an  incorrect 
taste.  There  is  another  sort  of  sensibility  more 
difhcult  to  awaken,  that  of  friendship.  From  the 
time  a  child  is  capable  of  affection,  it  is  desirable 
to  turn  its  heart  towards  those  persons  who  do  it 
good.  By  its  affections  we  can  lead  it  to  do  what- 
ever we  wish  :  we  have  a  certain  influence  over  it ; 
if  we  know  how  to  use  it,  we  have  only  to  fear 
for  the  choice  it  makes  of  its  friends. 

There  is  another  class  of  children,  who  are  nat- 
urally indifferent,  reserved,  and  calculating.  They 
deceive  their  parents ;  they  only  pretend  to  love 
them  ;  they  study  their  inclinations  in  order  to  con- 
form to  them ;  they  appear  more  docile  than  other 
children  of  the  same  age,  Avho  act  without  disguise, 
according  to  their  humor;  their  docility,  which  is 
a  concealed  selfishness,  appears  to  be  genuine,  and 
their  dissimulation  is  not  discovered  until  it  is  too 


164  ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS. 

late  to  correct  it.  If  there  is  any  fault  of  a  child 
which  education  cannot  cure,  it  is  without  doubt 
this ;  and  yet  it  is  much  more  common  than  we  have 
an  idea  of.  Parents  cannot  resolve  to  believe  that 
their  children  want  feeling  ;  and  as  no  one  dares  to 
tell  them  of  it,  the  evil  increases.  The  chief  remedy, 
is,  to  permit  children  from  the  earliest  age,  to  dis- 
cover their  inclinations,  that  we  may  know  what 
they  are  ;  they  are  naturally  simple  and  confiding, 
but  the  slightest  restraint  will  be  likely  to  inspire 
them  with  a  wish  to  disguise,  and  they  will  never 
recover  their  simplicity. 

It  is  true  that  God  alone  gives  goodness  and  ten- 
derness of  heart ;  we  can  only  try  to  excite  it  by 
generous  examples,  by  liberal  sentiments,  by  disin- 
terestedness, and  by  disapprobation  of  those  who 
love  themselves  too  well.  Before  children  have 
lost  their  native  ingenuousness,  we  must  make  them 
taste  the  pleasure  of  cordial  and  reciprocal  friend- 
ship ;  those  who  surround  them,  therefore,  should 
be  amiable,  sincere,  frank,  and  disinterested ;  the 
persons  who  have  the  care  of  them  had  better  have 
other  faults,  than  be  at  all  wanting  in  these  virtues. 

Parents  should  be  at  all  times  atTcctionate  and 
disinterested  in  their  manners  towards  each  other ; 
it  is  from  their  parents  that  children  often  learn  to 
love  self.  We  must  also,  in  their  presence,  avoid 
all  feigned  demonstrations  of  friendship,  that  are 
often  substituted  for  a  love  that  ought  to  be  real. 

But  we  more  frequently  sec  children  enthusiastic 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS.  165 

than  indifferent.  They  never  see  two  persons  dis- 
agree, without  taking  a  lively  interest  on  one  or 
the  other  side  ;  they  are  always  full  of  affections 
and  aversions  without  foundation  ;  they  see  no  fault 
in  those  they  like,  no  good  in  those  they  dislike. 
We  must  gradually  teach  them  that  we  are  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  good  qualities  of  the  persons 
they  love,  and  all  the  faults  there  are  in  those  they 
dislike.  Do  not  press  the  matter ;  they  will  grad- 
ually see  the  truth.  Then  lead  them  to  think  of 
their  own  mistakes,  and  show  them  how  unreason- 
able they  are  disposed  to  be.  Relate  to  them  errors 
like  these,  that  have  happened  in  your  own  youth  ; 
above  all,  point  out  to  them  the  mixture  of  good 
and  evil,  that  is  to  be  found  in  human  nature,  to 
check  the  extravagance  of  their  friendships,  and  the 
violence  of  their  aversions. 

Never  promise  children,  as  a  reward  for  their 
good  conduct,  either  dress  or  sweet-meats ;  by  do- 
ing this  you  create  in  them  two  faults ;  in  the  first 
place,  you  teach  them  to  estimate  highly  what  they 
ought  to  despise  ;  and  in  the  second,  you  deprive 
yourself  of  the  means  of  establishing  recompenses, 
which  facilitate  your  labor.  Be  cautious  how  you 
ever  force  them  to  study.  You  must  have  as  few 
rules  as  possible,  and  for  those  few,  must  have  a 
good  reason.  Though  we  should  fear  to  excite  the 
vanity  of  children  by  flattery,  judicious  praise  is 
very  necessary.  St.  Paul  often  employed  it  to  en- 
encourage  the  weak.     We  may  also  recompense 


166  ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS. 

children  by  innocent  plays,  by  walks,  conversations, 
little  presents  of  pictures,  or  geographical  charts. 

Children  are  extremely  fond  of  stories :  we  see 
them  transported  with  joy,  or  shedding  tears,  at 
their  recital.  Choose  some  fable  at  once  innocent 
and  ingenious  ;  show  them  the  serious  intention  of 
■the  author ;  when  you  have  related  one  fable,  wait 
until  the  child  asks  for  another  ;  when  their  curios- 
ity is  excited,  recount  certain  select  passages  of  his- 
tory ;  leave  off  in  an  interesting  part ;  postpone  the 
rest  for  the  next  day,  leaving  them  impatient  to 
hear  the  end ;  animate  your  recital  by  a  familiar 
tone  of  voice  ;  make  your  characters  speak  for  them- 
selves. This  delights  a  child,  particularly  if  he  con- 
siders it  as  a  reward.  If  the  child  has  facility  of 
language,  he  will,  of  his  own  accord,  wish  to  re- 
peat it  to  another  person  ;  you  can  choose  one  of 
his  attendants  who  will  be  anxious  to  hear  the 
story ;  he  will  delight  to  tell  it :  do  not  appear  to 
remark  his  mistakes,  but  when  he  has  repeated 
several,  give  him  some  general  advice  upon  the 
manner  of  relating  a  story,  which  is,  to  render  it 
simple,  short,  and  correct,  by  a  choice  of  circum- 
stances which  shall  best  represent  the  whole. 

We  must  endeavor  to  give  them  a  taste  for  Sacred 
History,  rather  than  any  other  ;  not  by  telling  them 
that  it  is  more  interesting,  but  by  making  them 
feel  that  it  so.  Lead  them  to  remark  the  important 
events  that  are  to  be  found  in  it,  such  as  the  Crea- 
tion, the  Deluge,  the  sacrifice  of  Isaac,  the  birth 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS.  167 

and  flight  of  Moses.  By  this  means,  we  shall  not 
only  awaken  the  curiosity  of  children,  but  we  shall 
lay  the  foundation  of  religious  knowledge,  which 
consists  of  a  tissue  of  wonderful  facts.  Recount 
to  them,  in  detail,  the  history  of  Jesus  Christ ; 
select  the  most  striking  parts  of  the  Gospel,  his 
preaching  in  the  temple  at  twelve  years  of  age,  his 
retreat  to  the  desert,  his  temptation,  the  multiplica- 
tion of  bread,  Lazarus  resuscitated,  the  entrance 
into  Jerusalem ;  describe  his  death,  and  his  rising 
from  the  tomb.  All  these  events,  managed  with 
discretion,  will  fill  the  imagination  and  affectionate 
heart  of  a  child  with  lively  images  of  all  the  re- 
markable events  which  have  happened  since  the 
creation  of  the  world  ;  it  will  see  the  hand  of  God 
forever  raised  to  confound  the  impious  and  protect 
the  just.  But  we  must  select,  among  these  histo- 
ries, only  such  as  afford  pleasing  or  magnificent 
images,  so  as  to  render  religion  beautiful,  lovely, 
and  sublime. 

We  should  never  laugh  at  any  thing  which  is  in 
any  way  associated  with  religion,  before  children. 
We  sometimes  indulge  ourselves  in  ridiculing  the 
devotion  of  a  simple  mind,  but  we  commit  a  great 
fault  in  so  doing.  We  should  speak  of  God  with 
seriousness  and  reverence,  and  never  trifle  upon  sa- 
cred subjects.  In  matters  of  propriety,  we  must  be 
careful  before  children. 

As  women  are  in  danger  of  superstition,  we  must 
try  to  enlighten  and  strengthen  their  minds.     We 


168  ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS. 

must  accustom  them  not  to  admit  things  without 
authority.  Nothing  is  so  painful  as  to  see  people 
of  intellect  and  piety,  shudder  at  the  thoughts  of 
death  ;  a  woman  ought  to  know  how  to  resist  weak 
fears,  to  be  firm  in  danger,  and  to  feel  that  a  Chris- 
tian, of  either  sex,  should  never  be  a  coward  ;  the 
soul  of  Christianity,  if  we  may  so  call  it,  lies  in  the 
disregard  of  this  life,  and  the  love  of  another. 

There  are  several  faults  which  are  common  to 
girls  brought  up  in  indolence  and  timidity  ;  they 
are  incapable  of  a  firm  and  steady  conduct  ;  there 
is  a  good  deal  of  affectation  in  those  ill-founded 
alarms,  and  those  tears  that  they  shed  so  easily. 
We  must  begin  by  treating  them  with  indifference  ; 
we  must  repress  our  too  tender  love,  little  flatteries, 
and  compliments.  We  must  teach  them  to  speak 
in  a  concise  manner.  Genuine  good  taste  consists 
in  saying  much  in  a  few  words,  in  choosing  among 
our  thoughts,  in  having  some  order  and  arrange- 
ment in  what  we  relate,  in  speaking  with  com- 
posure ;  whereas,  women  in  general  are  enthusias- 
tic in  their  language.  Little  can  be  expected  from 
a  woman,  who  does  not  know  how  to  express  her 
thoughts  with  correctness  and  how  to  be  silent. 

Girls  are  timid  and  full  of  false  shame,  which  is 
a  source  of  dissimulation.  To  correct  this,  we 
must  lead  them  to  discover  their  thoughts  without 
disguise  ;  when  they  are  tired,  to  say  so  ;  and  not 
oblige  them  to  appear  to  enjoy  books  or  society, 
while  fatigued  by  them.     When  they  have  unfor- 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS.  169 

tunately  acquired  the  habit  of  disguising  their  feel- 
ings, we  must  show  them  by  examples,  that  it  is 
possible  to  be  discreet  and  prudent,  without  being 
deceitful ;  and  tell  them  that  prudence  consists  in 
saying  little,  and  distrusting  ourselves  more  than 
Others,  not  in  dissembling  speeches.  Simplicity 
and  truth  excite  more  confidence,  and  succeed  bet- 
ter, even  in  this  world,  than  dissimulation. 

What  is  there  more  delightful  than  to  be  sincere, 
tranquil,  in  harmony  with  our  conscience,  having 
nothing  to  fear  and  nothing  to  pretend ;  whereas 
she  who  dissembles  is  always  agitated,  and  under 
the  necessity  of  hiding  one  deception  by  a  hundred 
others,  and  yet,  with  all  these  eftbrts,  she  never 
fails  to  be  discovered ;  sooner  or  later,  she  passes 
for  what  she  is. 

If  the  world  is  deceived  respecting  some  soli- 
tary action,  it  is  not  so  respecting  the  whole  life. 
Truth  always  peeps  out  at  some  place ;  they  are 
often  the  dupes  even  of  those  they  wish  to  deceive, 
for  people  pretend  to  believe  them,  and  they  think 
themselves  esteemed  when  they  are  despised  ;  at 
least  they  cannot  prevent  suspicions,  and  what  can 
be  more  painful  to  a  wise  self-love,  than  to  inspire 
doubt  and  distrust. 

Teach  girls  to  say  but  little,  and  that  little  ac- 
cording to  the  occasion  and  the  person  they  address  ; 
let  them  be  reminded  that  finesse  always  belongs 
to  a  mean  heart  and  a  weak  mind ;  people  are  art- 
ful because  they  have  something  to  conceal,  and  do 
15 


170  ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS, 

not  dare  to  appear  what  they  are.  Take  notice  of 
the  evil  of  certain  little  artiiices  that  are  committed, 
and  the  contempt  which  falls  upon  those  who  are 
guilty  of  them.  From  time  to  time  deprive  them 
of  what  they  have  gained  by  art,  and  tell  them 
they  shall  have  whatever  they  want  when  they 
ask  for  it  openly.  Pity  their  little  infirmities,  in 
order  to  induce  them  to  discover  them  ;  false  shame 
is  the  most  dangerous  of  all  defects,  and  the  first  to 
be  corrected,  for  it  will  render  all  others  incurable. 

Guard  children  against  the  subtlety  that  leads 
another  into  a  deception,  while  they  appear  not  to 
have  been  the  cause  of  the  deceit  themselves  ;  teach 
them  that  there  is  more  baseness  in  such  refine- 
ments, than  in  common  art ;  say  to  a  child  that 
God  is  truth  itself,  that  it  is  trifling  with  God  to 
trifle  with  truth,  and  that  he  has  given  us  language 
to  be  used  in  speaking  with  precision  and  simplicity, 
that  we  may  say  nothing  but  what  is  just  and  true. 
We  must,  above  all  things,  avoid  praising  children 
when  they  discover  art  in  trifling  ;  far  from  appear- 
ing to  think  such  things  pretty  and  amusing,  we 
should  correct  them  severely.  When  we  praise 
children  for  such  faults,  we  teach  them  that  to  de- 
ceive, is  to  be  ingenious. 

The  education  of  women,  like  that  of  men, 
should  tend  to  prepare  them  for  their  duties;  the 
difference  of  their  employments  will  of  course  ren- 
der their  studies  dilfcrcnt.  It  is  the  duty  of  a 
woman  to  educate  her  children,  the  boys  until  a 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS.  171 

certain  age,  and  girls  until  they  are  married.  How 
much  wisdom  is  requisite  to  manage  the  mind  and 
disposition  of  each  child,  so  as  to  guide  their  intel- 
lects, manage  their  humors,  to  anticipate  the  effects 
of  their  growing  passions,  and  to  rectify  their  errors. 
How  much  prudence  should  a  mother  have  in  order 
to  maintain  her  authority  over  them,  without  losing 
their  friendship  and  their  confidence.  Surely  the 
mother  of  a  family  ought  to  possess  a  religious, 
mature,  firm  mind,  acquainted  with  the  human 
heart.  St.  Paul  attaches  such  importance  to  the 
education  of  children,  that  he  says,  it  is  by  "  moth- 
ers the  souls  of  children  are  saved." 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  specify  all  that  they  ought 
to  know,  in  order  to  educate  their  children  well. 
To  do  this,  it  would  be  necessary  to  enter  into  an 
entire  detail  of  their  studies ;  but  we  must  not 
omit  the  subject  of  economy.  Women  in  general 
are  apt  to  neglect  it,  and  think  it  proper  only  for 
the  lower  classes ;  those  women,  especially,  who 
are  brought  up  in  idleness  and  indolence,  disdain 
the  detail  of  domestic  life.  It  is  nevertheless  from 
ignorance  that  the  science  of  economy  is  despised. 
The  polished  Greeks  and  Romans  took  care  to  in- 
struct themselves  in  this  art.  That  mind  is  of  a 
low  order,  which  can  only  speak  well,  and  cannot 
act  well ;  we  often  meet  with  women,  who  utter 
wise  maxims,  yet,  nevertheless,  are  very  frivolous 
in  their  conduct.  It  is  well  to  accustom  girls  from 
their  childhood  to  have  the  care  of  something  ;  to 


172  ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS. 

make  out  accounts,  to  understand  the  value  of 
things,  and  their  uses ;  but  we  must  be  careful  not 
to  let  economy  lead  to  avarice.  A  reasonable  mind 
desires,  by  a  frugal  and  industrious  life,  to  avoid 
the  shame  and  injustice  that  is  produced  by  extrav- 
agance. We  ought  to  retrench  in  superfluous 
expenses,  only  that  we  may  have  more  to  be- 
stow in  charity  and  friendship ;  it  is  good  order, 
and  not  sordid  savings,  that  enlarges  our  means. 
Do  not  fail  to  represent  the  foolish  economy  of 
those  women  who  save  a  lamp,  while  they  are 
careless  in  their  general  expenses. 

Attend  as  much  to  neatness  as  you  do  to  econo- 
my. Accustom  girls  never  to  suffer  anything  about 
them  to  be  unclean  or  in  disorder ;  lead  them  to 
notice  the  slightest  derangement  in  a  house;  say 
to  them  that  nothing  contributes  more  to  economy 
and  neatness,  than  keeping  things  in  their  proper 
place.  This  may  seem  trifling,  yet  it  leads  to  very 
important  consequences.  For  then  when  anything 
is  wanted,  there  will  be  no  difficulty  in  finding  it  ; 
and  when  it  is  done  with,  it  will  be  retained  to 
the  place  it  was  taken  from.  This  exact  order 
forms  the  most  essential  part  of  neatness  ;  for  in- 
stance, a  dish  will  not  be  soiled  or  broken,  if  it  is 
put  in  its  proper  place  as  soon  as  it  has  been  used  ; 
the  carefulness  which  makes  us  place  things  in  or- 
der, makes  us  keep  them  clean.  Joined  to  all  these 
advantages,  is  that  of  giving  to  domestics  a  habit 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS.  173 

of  neatness  and  activity,  by  obliging  them  to  place 
things  in  order,  and  keep  them  clean. 

At  the  same  time  we  must  avoid  fastidiousness  ; 
neatness,  when  it  is  moderate,  is  a  virtue  ;  but 
when  it  is  carried  to  an  extreme,  it  narrows  the 
mind.  Teach  children  that  it  is  a  weakness  to  be 
troubled  because  a  dish  is  not  properly  seasoned, 
or  a  chair  is  put  in  the  wrong  place.  This  fastid- 
iousness, if  it  be  not  repressed,  becomes  one  of  the 
most  dangerous  faults  ;  common  folks  are  disagree- 
able and  wearisome  to  them.  We  should  teach 
them  early  that  we  are  not  to  judge  of  any  one 
merely  by  his  manners  ;  and  point  out  to  them 
people  whose  manners  are  unpleasant,  but  who, 
nevertheless,  having  a  good  heart  and  a  correct 
mind,  are  a  thousand  times  more  estimable  than 
they,  who,  under  an  accomplished  address,  conceal 
a  bad  heart,  capable  of  all  kinds  of  baseness  and 
dissimulation.  Say  to  them,  that  those  who  are 
apt  to  feel  a  disgust  at  everything,  are  usually 
weak.  There  is  no  man  from  whose  conversation 
we  may  not  draw  some  good,  and  though  we  should 
choose  the  best  when  we  have  the  freedom  of  choice, 
yet  we  may  be  consoled  when  we  have  not :  wo 
may  lead  people  to  speak  of  those  subjects  with 
which  they  are  acquainted,  and  thus  derive  some 
instruction  from  the  most  ignorant. 

The  science  of  teaching  others  to  serve  us,  is  not 
a  slight  one ;  we  must  choose   servants  who  have 
principle  and  religion ;  we  must  understand  their 
15* 


174  ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS. 

different  duties,  the  time  and  the  labor  which  ought 
to  be  given  to  each  thing  ;  the  manner  of  doing  it 
well,  and  what  is  necessary  to  do  it  with.  For  in- 
stance, you  might  blame  a  servant  for  not  having 
cooked  a  dish  sooner  than  it  was  possible  to  do  it ; 
or  you  would  be  in  danger  of  being  cheated  by 
your  servant  from  your  ignorance  of  the  quantity 
necessary  to  use  in  doing  a  thing.  We  must  learn 
to  understand  the  temper,  and  to  manage  the  minds 
of  our  domestics.  It  is  certainly  necessary  that 
we  should  have  authority ;  for  the  less  reasonable 
men  are,  so  much  the  more  necessary  is  it  that  fear 
should  restrain  them ;  but  we  must  remember  that 
they  are  our  brethren  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  that  we 
should  not  use  authority  until  persuasion  has  failed. 
Endeavor  to  make  your  servants  love  you,  without 
being  familiar  with  them ;  do  not  enter  into  con- 
versation with  them,  but  speak  to  them  often  with 
sympathy  and  affection,  of  their  wants ;  let  them 
be  certain  of  your  advice  and  your  compassion ;  do 
not  reprove  them  harshly  for  their  faults ;  do  not 
appear  offended  or  astonished  at  them,  Avhile  there 
is  any  hope  that  they  can  be  corrected  ;  speak  to 
them  with  gentleness  and  with  reason  ;  submit  to 
some  neglects  of  service,  in  order  to  convince  them 
that  you  do  not  find  fault  from  impatience  or 
temper. 

In  regard  to  reading,  I  should  permit  a  girl  to 
read  books  of  history,  and  select  works  of  eloquence 
and  poetry,  provided  her  judgment  was  sufficiently 


ON    THE    EDUCATION    OF    GIRLS.  175 

formed  to  bear  the  latter.  In  the  education  of  a 
young  girl,  we  should  consult  her  condition,  and 
the  place  where  she  is  to  pass  her  life  ;  do  not  per- 
mit her  to  indulge  hopes  above  her  situation  or  her 
fortune  ;  expecting  too  much  has  been  the  cause  of 
much  sorrow.  If  a  girl  is  to  live  in  the  country, 
her  mind  should  be  formed  for  the  pleasures  of  the 
country,  and  she  should  not  be  permitted  to  imbibe 
a  taste  for  the  city.  If  she  is  in  a  middling  condi- 
tion in  the  city,  do  not  permit  her  to  associate  with 
those  of  a  higher  rank  than  herself.  With  respect 
to  dress,  we  must  endeavor  to  inspire  girls  with 
moderation.  True  wisdom  consists  in  our  never 
displaying  in  our  dress,  or  our  equipage,  anything 
remarkable  ;  let  there  be  nothing  in  their  dress  like 
affectation.  We  must  endeavor  to  inspire  them 
with  compassion  for  the  poor ;  and  show  them  the 
sin  of  those  who  live  only  for  themselves,  and  re- 
fuse to  give  to  those  who  suffer. 

But  the  most  important  thing,  is  to  gain  the 
heart  of  your  daughter ;  seek  for  her  companions 
who  will  not  injure  her ;  furnish  her  with  amuse- 
ments that  will  not  disgust  her  with  the  serious 
employments  that  occupy  her  the  rest  of  the  day. 
Endeavor  to  make  her  love  God ;  do  not  let  her 
regard  him  as  an  inexorable  judge,  who  is  watch- 
ing to  censure  her ;  let  her  learn  to  think  of  him 
as  a  tender  and  compassionate  Father  ;  do  not  let 
her  regard  prayer  as  a  fatiguing  constraint  of  the 
mind,  but  teach  her  to  turn  her  thoughts  inward  to 


176  ON   THE    EDUCATION    OF   GIRLS. 

find  God  there.  His  kingdom  is  within  us.  Teach 
her  to  confess  her  fauhs  to  God,  to  represent  her 
wants  to  him,  and  to  acquire  the  habit  of  acting 
always  as  in  his  presence,  and  of  being  animated  in 
the  performance  of  duty  by  the  spirit  of  love,  and 
to  place  all  her  confidence  in  Him. 


LETTERS    OF    FENELON 


[These  letters  are  numbered  merely  for  convenience ;  the  sub- 
jects will  enable  any  one  who  wishes  to  refer  to  them,  to  find  them 
in  the  original.] 

[FROM  THE    "SPIRITUAL   LETTERS."] 

LETTER  I. 

ADVICE    TO    A    MAN    OF    THE    WORLD,    WHO     DESIRED    TO     BECOME 
RELIGIOUS. 

I  AM  greatly  pleased  at  the  kindness  of  heart  with 
which  you  received  the  letter  I  had  the  honor  to 
write  to  you.  It  must  be  the  spirit  of  God  that 
has  given  you  this  thirst  for  truth,  and  desire  of 
assistance  in  your  great  work.  I  shall  be  most 
happy  to  aid  you. 

The  more  you  seek  for  God,  the  nearer  he  will 
be  to  you ;  every  step  that  you  take  towards  him 
will  bring  you  peace  and  consolation. 

Christian  perfection,  that  jieople  have  a  sort  of 
dread  of,  from  the  idea  that  it  imposes  gloom  and 
constraint,  is  not  perfection,  but  inasmuch  as  it  in- 
creases benevolence.  We  do  not  consider  it  con- 
straint to  do  those  things  which  we  love  to  do. 


178  LETTERS. 

We  find  a  pleasure  in  sacrificing  ourselves  to  any 
one  that  we  truly  love.  Thus,  the  more  we  ad- 
vance in  perfection,  the  more  willing  we  are  to 
follow  its  Author.  What  do  we  desire  better  than 
to  be  always  satisfied,  and  to  be  as  well  contented 
with  crosses  as  with  their  opposite  pleasures  ?  This 
is  a  contentment  that  you  will  never  find  in  yield- 
ing yourself  up  to  your  passions,  and  which  will 
never  fail  you  if  you  give  yourself  up  to  God.  It 
is  true  that  this  is  not  a  contentment  that  flatters 
and  excites  like  profane  pleasures ;  but  it  is  never- 
theless genuine  contentment,  and  far  superior  to 
what  the  world  can  give ;  for  sinners  are  ever  de- 
siring what  they  cannot  obtain.  It  is  a  quiet  and 
sober  peace,  but  the  soul  prefers  it  to  the  intoxica- 
tion of  passion.  It  is  a  peace  in  which  we  are  in 
harmony  with  ourselves,  a  peace  that  is  never  dis- 
turbed but  by  our  own  unfaithfulness.  As  the 
world  cannot  give  it,  it  cannot  deprive  us  of  it. 
If  you  doubt  it,  try  it ;  "  Oh,  taste  and  see  that  the 
Lord  is  go;d." 

You  will  do  well  to  regulate  your  time,  that  you 
may  have  every  day  a  little  leisure  for  reading, 
meditation,  and  prayer,  to  review  your  defects,  to 
study  your  duties,  and  to  hold  communion  with 
God,  You  will  be  happy  when  a  true  love  to  Him 
shall  make  this  duty  easy.  When  we  love  God, 
we  do  not  ask  what  we  shall  say  to  him.  We  have 
no  difficulty  in  conversing  with  a  friend.  Our 
hearts  are  ever  open  to  him.     We  do  not  think 


179 


what  we  shall  say  to  him,  but  we  say  it  without 
reflection.  We  cannot  be  reserved.  When  even 
we  have  nothing  to  say  to  him,  we  are  satisfied 
with  being  with  him.  Oh !  how  much  better  are 
we  sustained  by  love  than  by  fear.  Fear  enslaves, 
constrains,  and  troubles  us ;  but  love  persuades, 
consoles,  animates  us  ;  possesses  our  whole  souls, 
and  makes  us  desire  goodness  for  its  own  sake. 

It  is  true  that  the  fear  of  the  judgments  of  God 
is  necessary  to  keep  the  passions  under  restraint ; 
but  if  we  must  begin  by  fear  that  makes  the  flesh 
tremble,  let  us  hasten  to  that  love  that  consoles  the 
spirit.  Oh  !  how  kind  and  faithful  a  friend  will 
God  be  to  those,  who  enter  into  a  sincere  and  con- 
stant friendship  with  him  ! 

The  most  important  thing,  if  you  really  wish  to 
be  a  religious  man,  is  to  distrust  yourself,  after  so 
many  proofs  of  your  weakness,  and  to  renounce 
immediately  those  companions  that  might  lead  you 
from  the  right  path. 

If  you  wish  to  love  God,  why  should  you  wish 
to  pass  your  life  in  friendship  with  those  who  do 
not  love  him,  and  who  slight  his  love  ?  Why  are 
you  not  satisfied  with  the  society  of  those  who 
will  confirm  and  strengthen  your  love  for  him  ? 

I  do  not  wish  that  you  should  break  off  entirely 
your  connexions  with  all  those  persons  with  whom 
politeness  requires  you  to  associate,  and  still  less 
do  I  wish  you  to  neglect  any  of  the  duties  of  your 
station.     But  I  refer  to  those  connexions  that  are 


180  LETTERS. 

voluntary,  and  that  may  contaminate  the  heart,  and 
insensibly  weaken  our  best  resolutions ;  intimacies 
with  the  vain  and  foolish,  and  the  company  of 
those  who  despise  piety  and  tempt  you  to  a  dan- 
gerous dissipation.  These  things  are  dangerous 
for  the  most  confirmed  in  virtue,  and  of  course  still 
more  pernicious  for  those  who  have  taken  only  the 
first  steps  in  the  right  path,  from  which  it  is  so 
natural  for  them  to  turn  aside. 

I  acknowledge  that  you  ought  not  to  present  be- 
fore the  public  a  scene  of  ostentatious  conversion, 
which  might  produce  ill-natured  remarks.  True 
piety  never  demands  these  demonstrations.  Two 
things  only  are  necessary ;  one  is,  not  to  set  a  bad 
example,  that  we  may  never  have  to  blush  for  the 
religion  of  Jesus ;  the  other  is,  to  do  without  aflfec- 
tation  and  without  eclat,  whatever  a  sincere  love 
to  God  demands. 


LETTER  II. 

TO     ONE     WHO     WAS     UNDECIDED     ABOUT     A     RELIGIOUS     LIFE. 

You  may  think  me  forward,  but  I  cannot  be  re- 
served with  you,  although  I  have  not  the  honor  of 
an  acquaintance  with  you.  The  knowledge  that 
has  been  communicated  to  me  of  the  situation  of 
your  heart,  affects  me  so  deeply,  that  it  leads  me  to 
set  aside  forms. 


181 


Your  friends,  who  are  also  mine,  have  assured 
you  of  the  sincerity  of  my  interest  in  you.  I  can 
hardly  realize  a  more  perfect  joy,  than  to  have  you 
with  me  for  some  days. 

In  the  meantime,  I  cannot  avoid  saying  to  you, 
that  we  ought  to  yield  ourselves  up  to  God,  when 
he  thus  invites-  us  to  himself.  Do  we  deliberate 
so  long,  when  the  world  presents  to  us  the  seduc- 
tions of  pleasure  and  of  passion  ?  Have  we  thus 
hesitated  ?  Have  we  resisted  evil  as  we  resist 
good  ?  Is  it  a  question  whether  we  shall  be  de- 
luded, corrupted,  and  lost ;  whether  we  shall  act 
against  the  most  sacred  convictions  of  the  heart 
and  the  understanding  ?  In  seeking  vanities  and 
the  pleasures  of  sense,  we  are  not  afraid  of  going 
too  far.  We  decide  immediately,  we  yield  our- 
selves up  Avithout  reserve. 

But  is  it  a  question  whether  we  shall  believe 
that  an  all-v\ase  and  all-powerful  hand  has  made 
us,  since  we  have  not  made  ourselves  ?  Is  it  a 
question  whether  we  shall  acknowledge  that  we 
owe  all  to  him  from  whom  we  have  received  every- 
thing, and  who  has  made  us  for  himself?  We  be- 
gin to  hesitate,  to  deliberate,  and  to  find  subtile 
doubts  upon  the  simplest  and  clearest  things ;  we 
are  even  ashamed  of  being  grateful  to  him.  and  we 
dare  not  let  the  world  see  that  we  are  willing  to 
serve  him.  In  a  word,  we  are  as  timid,  as  irreso- 
lute, and  as  scrupulous  in  the  cause  of  virtue,  as  we 
are  unhesitating,  bold,  and  decided  in  that  of  vice. 
16 


182 


LETTERS. 


I  ask  but  one  thing  of  you,  which  is,  to  follow 
in  simplicity,  the  bent  of  yonr  own  mind  for  good- 
ness, as  you  have  formerly  followed  your  earthly 
passions  in  the  pursuit  of  evil. 

Whenever  you  examine  the  proofs  of  our  religion 
you  will  find  that  no  solid  arguments  can  be  op- 
posed to  it ;  and  that  those  who  contend  against  it, 
only  do  it  that  they  may  be  free  from  its  restraints. 
Thus  they  refuse  to  obey  God,  that  they  may  be 
devoted  to  self.  Is  this,  in  good  faith,  wise  or  just  ? 
Are  so  many  deliberations  necessary  to  conclude 
that  he  has  not  made  us  for  ourselves,  but  for  him  ? 
In  serving  him,  what  do  we  risk  ? 

We  shall  do,  as  before,  all  that  is  really  honest 
and  innocent.  We  shall  have,  perhaps,  the  same 
duties  to  fulfil,  and  the  same  sorrow  to  endure  pa- 
tiently. But  we  shall  have  the  infi.nite  consolation 
of  loving  him,  who  is  the  sovereign  good.  We 
shall  labor  and  we  shall  suffer  for  him,  who  is  our 
true  and  perfect  friend,  and  who  will  recompense 
us  a  hundred  fold  in  this  life,  even  by  the  peace 
wliich  he  will  shed  upon  our  souls.  And  we  shall 
add  to  this  the  anticipation  of  a  life  of  eternal  fe- 
licity, compared  with  which  this  life  is  a  slow  death. 

Believe,  then,  your  own  heart,  to  which  God, 
whom  it  has  so  long  forgotten,  is  now  speaking  in 
love,  notwithstanding  its  ingratitude.  Consult  the 
good,  those  whom  you  know  to  be  sincere  ;  ask 
them  what  is  th(!  suffering  from  serving  God ;  learn 
from  them  whether  they  repent  of  their  choice,  if 


LETTERS.  183 

they  think  they  were  rash  and  credulous  in  their 
conversion.  They  have  been  in  the  world  as  you 
have ;  ask  them  if  they  regret  quitting  it,  and  if 
the  drunkenness  of  Babylon  is  sweeter  than  the 
peace  of  Zion.  No ;  whatever  we  may  endure  m 
the  christian  life,  we  can  never  lose  that  peace  of 
mind,  which  reconciles  us  to  all  we  suffer,  and 
makes  us  cease  to  desire  what  we  are  deprived  of. 

Does  the  world  bestow  as  much  ?  You  are  ac- 
quainted with  it.  Are  those,  who  are  devoted  to 
it,  satisfied  with  what  they  have,  and  not  desirous 
of  what  they  have  not  ?  Do  they  do  everything 
from  love  and  from  their  hearts  ?  What  do  you 
fear?  To  quit  what  you  will  leave  very  soon,  and 
what  is  leaving  you  every  moment,  and  what  can 
never  fill  your  heart,  that  turns  away  from  it  with 
a  mortal  languor  :  your  heart,  that  contains  within 
itself  a  melancholy  void,  a  secret  reproach  of  con- 
science, and  a  sense  of  the  nothingness  of  that  by 
which  we  have  been  deluded  ? 

Oh  !  what  do  you  fear  ?  To  find  a  virtue  too 
pure  to  imitate,  a  God  too  good  to  love,  an  attrac- 
tion in  goodness  that  shall  not  leave  you  free  to 
follow  earthly  vanities  ?  What  do  you  fear  ?  To 
become  too  humble,  too  much  detached  from  self, 
too  pure,  too  just,  too  reasonable,  too  grateful  to 
your  Father  in  heaven  ?  Oh  !  fear  nothing  so  much 
as  this  unjust  fear,  and  this  foolish  wisdom  of  the 
world,  which  deliberates  between  God  and  self, 
between  virtue  and  vice,  between  gratitude  and  in- 
gratitude, between  life  and  death. 


184  LETTERS. 

All  that  the  most  extravagant  lovers  have  said 
in  the  delirium  of  passion,  is  in  one  sense  true. 
Not  to  love  is  not  to  live.  The  wildest  passions 
that  have  transported  mankind,  have  been  only  the 
true  love  misplaced,  and  wandering  from  that  centre 
to  which  it  naturally  tends.  God  has  made  us  for 
himself.  He  has  kindled  a  flame  in  the  bottom  of 
our  hearts,  that  should  ever  burn  like  a  lamp  for 
Him  who  lighted  it ;  and  all  other  life  is  like  death. 
We  ought  then  to  love. 

But  what  shall  we  love  ?  That  which  we  can- 
not love  sincerely,  that  which  is  not  lovely,  that 
which  vanishes  as  we  would  grasp  it  ?  What  shall 
we  love  in  the  world  ?  Men,  who  are  as  great 
hypocrites  in  honesty  as  they  accuse  religious  men 
of  being  in  devotion  ;  an  honorable  name,  that  per- 
haps we  cannot  keep,  and  that  would  not  satisfy 
our  hearts  if  we  could;  the  esteem  of  ignorant 
persons,  whom  we  perhaps  individually  despise  ? 
What  will  you  love  ?  This  mortal  body,  which 
debases  your  mind,  and  subjects  your  heart  to  the 
pains  of  its  own  diseases  and  to  death  ?  What  will 
you  do  then  ?  Will  you  not  love  anything  ?  Will 
you  live  without  the  soul  of  existence  ?  Will  you 
not  love  God,  who  desires  that  you  should  love 
him,  and  who  wishes  you  to  give  yourself  to  him 
that  he  may  restore  you  to  himself?  Do  you  fear, 
with  this  treasure,  that  you  can  want  anything  ? 
Can  you  think  that  the  infinite  Creator  cannot  fill 
and  satisfy  your  soul  ?     Distrust  yourseir  and  all 


LETTERS.  185 

created  beings ;  they  are  all  nothing,  and  cannot 
satisfy  the  heart  of  man,  that  was  made  for  the  love 
of  pod.  But  never  doubt  Him  who  is  the  sole 
good,  and  who  mercifully  fills  your  heart  with  dis- 
satisfaction towards  all  other  things,  that  it  may  be 
constrained  to  return  to  him. 


LETTER   III. 


TO     THE     SAME     PERSON. 


Although  I  have  not  heard  from  you,  I  cannot 
forget  you,  nor  relinquish  the  privilege  you  have 
given  me.  Suffer  me,  then,  I  beg  you,  to  repre- 
sent to  you  how  culpable  you  will  be,  if  yon  resist 
the  truths  and  the  strong  feelings  that  God  has 
awakened  in  your  heart.  It  would  be  resisting  his 
Holy  Spirit.  You  cannot  doubt  the  worthlessness 
of  the  world,  nor  its  insufficiency  to  make  you 
happy,  nor  the  illusive  nature  of  its  flatteries.  You 
acknowledge  the  rights  of  the  Creator  over  the 
creature  ;  and  how  much  more  inexcusable  is  in- 
gratitude to  him  than  to  man.  You  recognise  the 
truth  that  there  is  a  God,  in  the  wisdom  that  shines 
in  all  his  works,  and  in  the  virtues  with  which  he 
inspires  those  who  love  him.  What  can  you  op- 
pose to  such  touching  truths  ?  Is  it  not  a  real  in- 
docility  of  heart  which  produces  this  irresolution  ? 
16* 


186  LETTERS. 

We  are  afraid  of  the  yoke ;  this  is  the  true  leaven 
of  unbelief.  We  try  to  persuade  ourselves  that  we 
do  not  believe  enough,  and  that,  being  in  this  state 
of  doubt,  we  cannot  take  any  steps  in  a  religious 
life,  but  with  precaution,  and  as  if  there  were  dan- 
ger of  soon  retracting.  What  have  you  in  reality 
to  oppose  to  the  truths  of  religion  ?  Nothing  but 
a  fear  of  constraint,  and  of  being  obliged  to  lead  a 
serious  life  ;  a  fear  of  being  led  farther  than  you 
wish  in  the  road  to  perfection.  It  is  because  you 
see  the  sacrifices  that  it  demands,  that  you  are 
afraid  of  religion. 

But  permit  me  to  say  that  you  know  not  all  its 
delights.  You  perceive  what  it  deprives  you  of, 
bat  you  do  not  see  what  it  bestows.  You  exag- 
gerate its  sacrifices,  without  looking  at  its  c()nsola- 
tions.  It  leaves  no  void  in  the  heart.  If  it  con- 
strain your  inclinations,  the  love  with  Avhich  it  will 
inspire  you,  will  give  you  a  relish  for  truth  and 
virtue,  far  superior  to  all  your  ill-regulated  tastes. 
What  do  you  expect  from  it  ?  that  it  will  perform 
a  miracle  to  convert  you?  Even  a  miracle  could 
not  take  from  you  this  irresolution  of  self-love  that 
fears  a  sacrifice.  What  will  you  gain  by  reason- 
ings without  end,  while  your  conscience  declares 
the  right  that  God  has  over  you  ?  Arguments  will 
not  cure  the  wound  in  your  heart  ;  you  do  not  rea- 
son for  the  sake  of  conviction  and  action,  but  that 
you  may  find  doubts,  that  you  may  find  excuses, 
and  retain  your  self-love. 


LETTERS.  187 

You  deserve  that  God  should  leave  you  to  your- 
self, as  a  punishment  for  so  long  a  resistance.  But 
he  loves  you  more  than  you  know  how  to  love 
yourself;  he  follows  you  with  his  mercy,  he  troubles 
your  heart  to  subdue  it :  yield  yourself  to  him,  and 
finish  this  dangerous  irresolution.  This  hesitation 
between  two  courses  is  in  fact  a  choice  ;  it  is  the 
secret,  lurking  desire  of  the  heart  in  the  illnsion  of 
self-love,  fearing  to  yield  itself  up,  and  ready  to 
fly  from  the  restraints  that  religion  imposes. 

Pardon  the  liberties  I  take  ;  but  I  cannot  mod- 
erate the  zeal  with  which  your  confidence  has 
inspired  me. 


LETTER   IV. 


TO     THE     DUKE     DE     CHEVERUSE,     ON     THE     OPERATIONS     OF 
THE     DIVINE      SPIRIT     IN      THE     SOUL. 

I  HAVE  given  my  attention  to  the  difficulty  you 
state,  of  discriminating  between  the  operations  of 
the  spirit  of  God,  and  our  own  natural  understand- 
ing. We  cannot  have  a  precise  and  certain  rule 
upon  this  subject  within  us.  We  only  have  an 
exterior  guide  for  our  actions,  which  is  conformity 
to  the  precepts,  counsels,  and  graces  of  Christianity. 
If  we  had,  in  addition  to  this,  the  means  of  distin- 
guishing with  certainty  the  Divine  influence  from 
the  operation  of  our  natural  powers,  we  should  then 


188  LETTERS. 

be  endowed  with  a  sort  of  sanctity  and  infallibility, 
that  would  amount  to  inspiration.  This  is  exactly 
oppos  d  to  the  uncertainty  of  faith  and  to  a  state 
of  pilgrimage. 

We  ought  not  to  seek  what  our  present  condi- 
tion does  not  permit  us  to  obtain  ;  I  mean  a  certain 
rule  to  decide  when  we  are  moved  by  a  Divine 
influence,  and  when  it  is  our  nature,  which  may 
imitate  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance 
in  our  conduct,  as  a  protection  against  illusion,  to 
discern  this  difference,  and  to  have  a  certain  rule 
for  judging.  We  must,  it  is  said,  obey  the  Divine 
influence  ;  not  to  do  it,  is  to  resist  God,  is  to  con- 
strain the  Holy  Spirit,  is  to  turn  away  from  that 
perfection  to  which  we  are  called. 

But  how  shall  we  follow  this  Divine  guide,  if 
we  have  no  certain  rule  by  which  to  distinguish  it 
from  the  operations  of  our  own  minds  ?  A  want 
of  certainty  upon  this  subject  leaves  us  in  continual 
danger  of  acting  contrarily  to  what  we  really  de- 
sire ;  of  being  influenced  by  natural  inclination, 
when  we  desire  to  be  guided  by  the  spirit  of  God. 
This  is  the  difficulty ;  let  us  seek  the  remedy. 

These  doubts  can  never  relate,  as  I  have  before 
observed,  to  those  things  that  are  forbidden  by  the 
precepts,  the  commands,  the  charities  of  our  re- 
ligion. This  holy  influence  not  only  can  never  lead 
us  to  violate  the  direct  instructions,  but  can  never 
teach  us  to  neglect  any  of  the  minor  duties  recom- 


LETTERS.  189 

mended  in  the  Gospel.     Thus  we  see  that  there  is 
no  question  about  an  entire  purity  and  perfection 
of  manners  in  the  case.     The  question  must  be 
between  two  right  actions,  to  know  which  is  the 
prompting  of  this  inward  teacher. 

It  is  true,  that  in  this  choice,  we  have  no  cer- 
tainty of  internal  evidence.  We  have  only  exter- 
nal rules  of  christian  prudence  to  enable  us  to  judge 
by  circumstances,  and  to  decide  which  is  the  more 
expedient.  And  we  have  not  within  us  any  cer- 
tain rule  to  discern  whether  a  decided  preference 
for  one  right  action,  over  another,  is  from  a  Divine 
influence  or  from  our  own  nature.  And  it  would 
not  suit  our  condition  here  to  have  this  certainty  ; 
it  is  the  will  of  God  that  we  shall  remain  in  this 
uncertainty,  and  that  we  shall  not  be  able  to  dis- 
tinguish between  them.  It  is  necessary,  then,  that 
this  Divine  influence  be  adapted  to  our  condition, 
and  that  it  should  operate  always  without  our  con- 
sciousness. 

The  danger  of  illusion  as  to  venial  acts,  is  not 
astonishing  in  a  state  in  which  we  are  liable  to  far 
more  perilous  mistakes,  which  lead  us  to  take  the 
motions  of  self-love,  that  are  the  death  of  the  souh 
for  its  true  life.  What  shall  we  do  in  this  state  of 
darkness?  All  that  depends  upon  us  to  do,  and 
with  this  be  satisfied.  Fidelity  in  duty,  united  to 
peaceful  trust,  in  such  a  state  of  uncertainty,  is  the 
greatest  self-sacrifice  to  those  spirits  that  are  eager 
to  understand  the  ways  of  God. 


190  LETTERS. 

It  is  true  that  notwithstanding  the  obscurity  that 
rests  upon  this  pilgrimage,  there  are  appearances, 
though  without  absolute  certainty,  that  serve  to 
cherish  in  the  heart  an  humble  confidence,  that  the 
spirit  of  God  guides  it.  There  are  gleams  of  this 
light  in  the  darkness  of  the  most  uncertain  faith, 
making  it  visible  occasionally,  that  we  are  led  on 
to  perfection  by  the  Divine  love.  God  mingles 
light  and  darkness  thus,  that  the  soul  may  not  be 
lost  in  uncertainty,  yet  not  have  a  full  assurance, 
and  may  not  find  here,  in  either  state,  a  sufficient 
support. 

The  best  proof  that  we  are  influenced  by  the 
spirit  of  God,  is,  first,  when  the  action  itself  is  pure 
and  conformable  to  the  perfection  of  his  laws. 
Secondly,  when  we  perform  it  simply,  tranquilly, 
without  eagerness  to  do  it,  contented  if  it  is  neces- 
sary to  relinquish  it.  Thirdly,  when,  after  the 
work  is  done,  we  do  not  seek  by  unquiet  reflections 
to  justify  the  action  even  to  ourselves,  but  are  will- 
ing it  should  be  condemned,  or  to  condemn  it  our- 
selves, if  any  superior  light  discovers  it  to  be  wrong  ; 
and  when,  in  fine,  we  do  not  appropriate  the  ac- 
tion lo  ourselves,  but  refer  it  to  the  will  of  God. 
Fourthly,  when  this  work  leaves  the  soul  in  its 
simplicity,  in  its  peace,  in  its  own  uprightness,  in 
humility,  and  in  self-forgetfulness. 

All  these  things,  it  is  true,  are  very  delicate  in 
their  operation  upon  the  mind  ;  and  all  we  can  say 
still  gives  little  knowledge  of  them.     But  though 


LETTERS.  •  191 

there  is  so  much  obscurity  in  a  state  of  faith,  it  is 
nevertheless  true,  that  God,  without  teaching  us 
by  positive  rules  how  to  know  his  voice,  accus- 
toms the  mind  to  understand  it,  to  recognise  it,  and 
to  obey  it,  although  it  cannot  give  an  account,  by 
any  philosophical  principle  or  precise  rule,  how  it 
may  be  discerned.  He  gives  to  the  soul,  when  it 
needs  it,  a  momentary  certainty ;  and  then  it  is 
withdrawn,  leaving  no  vestige  behind.  The  greatest 
danger  is  from  interrupting  this  influence  by  the 
inquietude  with  which  we  would  escape  from  this 
state,  and  insist  upon  seeing  clearly,  when  we  are 
thus  surrounded  by  darkness. 

One  thing  that  it  appears  to  me  desirable  to  ob- 
serve, is,  that  we  can  often  more  easily  distinguish 
that  which  is  nature,  than  that  which  is  a  Divine 
influence.  Let  us  relinquish  our  own  peculiar  de- 
sires, whether  they  lead  us  to  repose  or  to  action  ; 
those  that  are  induced  by  a  refined  intellectual 
taste,  as  entirely  as  those  that  grow  out  of  the 
pleasures  of  sense  ;  and  in  this  peace  of  the  soul, 
let  us,  in  simplicity  and  truth,  and  in  the  presence 
of  God,  do  all  we  can  to  die  to  ourselves  and  to 
please  him. 

But  we  must  guard  against  useless  scruples, 
against  a  mental  constraint,  and  an  anxiety  to  be 
assured  that  we  perform  all  our  actions  under  the 
influence  of  the  spirit  of  God.  We  may  extinguish 
this  light  in  the  endeavor  to  ascertain  that  we  are 
following  it.     We  may  return,  under  a  pretext  of 


192  LETTERS. 

safety,  into  all  the  windings  of  that  self-love  that 
we  pretend  to  avoid.  We  are  in  danger  of  losing 
the  reality  of  this  influence  in  onr  eff'ort  to  obtain  a 
certainty  with  regard  to  it,  which  it  is  not  the  will 
of  God  that  we  should  possess.  Thus  we  might 
pass  our  lives  in  reasoning  upon  the  operation  of 
the  spirit  of  God,  without  daring  to  yield  ourselves 
up  to  its  influence. 

Were  I  to  propose  anything  personal  and  peculiar 
to  yourself,  my  good  Duke,  it  would  be  to  remind 
you  that  the  bent  of  your  mind,  and  the  temptation 
to  fllusion  in  you,  arise,  not  from  any  gross  disorders, 
but  from  the  intemperance  of  wisdom  and  the  ex- 
cess of  reasoning.  Even  wisdom  ought  to  be  sober 
and  temperate.  Sobriety  and  simplicity  of  mind 
are  the  same  thing.  The  practice  of  true  love  to 
God  dissipates  doubts,  and  disgusts  us  with  specu- 
lative reasonings. 


LETTER  V. 

TO     A     PERSON     IN     AFFLICTION. 

It  is.  Madam,  but  a  sad  consolation,  to  say  to 
you  that  I  feel  your  sorrow.  This,  however,  is 
all  tliat  human  weakness  can  do :  and  when  we 
would  do  more  wc  must  turn  to  God.  It  is  to  him 
thai  I  go,  the  consoler  of  the  afllictcd,  the  protector 
of  the  weak.     I  pray  to  him,  not  that  he  may  take 


193 


away  your  grief  from  yon,  but  that  he  may  make 
it  a  blessing  to  you  ;  that  he  may  give  you  strength 
to  support  it,  and  that  he  may  not  let  you  sink  un- 
der it.  These  great  sorrows  are  the  remedies  for 
the  diseases  of  our  minds.  It  is  through  great  suf- 
fering that  the  mystery  of  Christianity  is  accom- 
plished, I  mean  the  crucifixion  of  self.  It  is  then 
that  the  grace  of  God  is  unfolded  to  us,  and  that 
we  understand  its  intimate  operation  upon  us,  and 
that  we  are  taught  to  sacrifice  self.  We  must  turn 
our  thoughts  away  from  ourselves,  before  we  can 
give  them  to  God  ;  and  that  we  may  be  constrained 
to  do  this,  it  is  necessary  that  our  hearts  be  so 
deeply  wounded,  that  all  created  things  be  turned 
into  bitterness  to  us.  Thus  touched  in  the  ten- 
derest  part,  troubled  in  its  sweetest  and  purest 
affections,  the  heart  feels  that  it  cannot  support 
itself,  and  escapes  from  its  weakness  and  goes  to 
God. 

These,  Madam,  are  violent  remedies,  but  sin  has 
made  them  necessary.  This  is  the  true  support  of 
the  Christian  in  affliction.  God  lays  his  hand  upon 
two  beings  united  in  a  holy  affection.  He  confers 
a  blessing  upon  both ;  he  places  one  in  glory,  and 
makes  his  removal  the  means  of  salvation  to  the  one 
that  remains.  This  is  what  God  has  done  for  you. 
May  his  Holy  Spirit  awaken  all  your  faith,  that 
you  may  penetrate  these  truths.  I  will  pray  for  it 
contiimally  ;  and  as  I  have  nuich  faith  in  the  prayers 
of  the  afflicted,  I  beg  of  you  to  remember  me  in 
17 


194  LETTEHS. 

your  prayers.  Your  charity  will  teach  you  what 
I  have  need  of,  and  will  give  earnestness  to  your 
petitions. 


LETTER    VI. 

ON     THE     DEATH     OF     A     PIOUS     FRIEND. 

God  has  taken  what  was  his  own  ;  has  he  not 

done  right  ?     It  was  time  that  F rested  from 

all  his  sufferings  :  they  were  great,  and  he  thought 
little  of  them  himself;  his  only  inquiry  was  con- 
cerning the  will  of  Him  in  whose  hands  he  was. 
Crosses  are  of  no  use  to  us,  but  inasmuch  as  we 
yield  ourselves  up  to  them,  and  forget  ourselves. 
Forget  yourself,  then,  my  friend ;  otherwise  this 
sorrow  will  not  be  a  blessing  to  you.  God  does 
not  make  us  suffer  for  the  sake  of  suffering,  but  to 
teach  us  to  forget  ourselves  in  that  state,  in  which 
this  self-forgetfulness  is  the  most  difficult,  a  state 
of  great  sorrow. 

I  feel  for  the  grief  of  the  good  Abbe  F . 

I  know  how  truly  they  were  united,  and  I  have 
been  rejoiced  at  it.  Such  a  death  as  this  has  noth- 
ing but  joy  in  it.  He  is  nearer  to  us  than  he  was 
before.  There  is  no  longer  any  curtain  between 
us.  Even  the  veil  of  faitli  is  raised  to  those  whose 
hearts  are  full  of  pure  and  disinterested  love. 


I 


LETTERS.  195 


LETTER   VII. 

TO     A     FRIEND. 
[Hearts  united  by  religion  meet,  although  separated  by  distance.] 

I  AM  always  united  in  heart  to  you  and  your 
dear  family;  never  doubt  it.  We  are  near  together, 
though  we  do  not  see  each  other ;  whilst  many 
people  are  far  apart,  though  they  live  in  the  same 
room.  God  unites  all,  and  annihilates  distance  to 
those  whose  hearts  unite  in  him.  He  is  the  com- 
mon centre,  where  hearts  meet  from  all  parts  of  the 
world.  I  cannot  help  feeling  the  privation  of  not 
seeing  you.  But  we  must  submit  to  this  with 
patience,  while  it  pleases  God  that  it  shall  be  so, 
even  if  it  should  be  till  death.  Content  yourself 
with  the  performance  of  your  own  duties.  For 
the  rest,  be  composed  and  self-collected,  diligent 
in  regulating  your  own  affairs,  and  patient  under 
domestic  trials. 

As  for  Madam ,  I  pray  God  that  she  may 

not  regard  those  things  that  are  behind,  but  press 
forward  in  the  right  path.  I  pray  that  God  may 
bless  all  your  family,  and  that  they  may  belong  to 
him. 


196  LETTERS. 


LETTER   VIII. 

ON    THE    DANGERS    OF    MENTAL  DISSIPATION. 

No  one  could  be  more  affected  than  I  was,  by 
the  excellent  letter  that  you  wrote  me.  I  saw 
your  heart  in  it,  and  I  approve  of  it.  I  pray  that 
God  may  preserve  you  amidst  the  contagion  of  the 
age.  Your  security  will  be  to  distrust  your  quick- 
ness and  natural  activity.  You  have  more  than 
common  taste  for  mental  dissipation,  and  as  soon 
as  you  are  dissipated  you  are  weakened.  As  your 
strength  can  come  only  from  God,  you  must  not 
be  astonished  if  you  are  weak  as  soon  as  you  turn 
from  him.  God  supports  us  only  when  we  trust 
in  him.  Ought  he  not  to  allow  us  to  fall,  when 
we  rashly  separate  ourselves  from  him  ?  We  can 
only  hope  for  a  resource  against  our  weakness  in 
meditation  and  prayer. 

You  are  peculiarly  in  want  of  this  support.  You 
have  an  excitable  disposition,  that  is  easily  inter- 
ested;  your  passions  are  soon  awakened,  your  vi- 
vacity and  your  natural  activity  expose  you.  Be- 
sides, you  have  an  open,  frank  manner,  that  pleases 
and  prejudices  the  world  in  your  favor.  Nothing 
is  more  dangerous  than  this  power  of  pleasing. 
Self-love  is  delighted  with  it,  and  the  heart  is  pois- 
oned by  it.  At  first  its  victims  are  amused,  then 
flattered,  then  dissipated ;    their  good  resolutions 


LETTERS.  197 

are  weakened  ;  and  at  last  they  are  intoxicated  with 
self,  and  with  the  world,  that  is  to  say,  with  plea- 
sure and  vanity.  Then  they  feel  that  they  are  sep- 
arated from  God,  and  they  have  no  courage  to  return. 
Your  only  security  will  lie,  in  guarding  yourself 
against  this  dissipation.  I  implore  you  to  devote 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  every  morning  to  reading 
some  religious  book,  and  to  meditate  upon  it  Avith 
freedom,  simplicity,  and  affection  ;  and  employ  a 
few  moments  more  in  the  same  way  in  the  evening. 
And  occasionally,  during  the  day,  recall  to  your 
mind  the  presence  of  God,  and  your  intention  of 
acting  according  to  his  will.  Contemplate  with 
humility  your  faults,  and  strive  in  earnest  to  correct 
them  ;  be  patient  with  yourself,  without  flattering 
your  faults,  just  as  you  would  be  with  another  per- 
son ;  observe  the  ordinances  of  your  religion.  J 
will  pray  with  my  whole  heart  for  you. 


LETTER   IX. 

TO   A    PERSON    LIVING    IN    SOLITUDE. 

I  WILL  never  forsake  any  one  whom  God  has 
committed  to  my  care,  until  I  fail  in  my  duty  to 
God  himself;  therefore  do  not  fear  lest  I  should 
forget  you.  But  if  I  were  to  do  so,  God  would 
effect  by  his  immediate  influence  what  his  un- 
17* 


198  LETTERS. 

worthy  instrument  had  neglected.  "  Be  not  afraid, 
O  thou  of  little  faith."     Remain  exactly  in  your 

usual   state.     Retain    your  confidence  in  N , 

who  knows  the  very  bottom  of  your  heart,  and 
who  alone  can  give  you  consolation  in  your  trials. 
It  will  be  given  to  him  to  aid  you  in  your  need. 
No  convent  will  be  suitable  for  you.  Everything 
would  be  constraint  to  you,  and  would  prove  a 
dangerous  temptation.  Remain  free  in  solitude, 
and  let  your  heart  in  simplicity  be  occupied  Avith 
God  and  yourself.  Every  day  is  a  feast-day  to 
those  who  endeavor  to  live  only  in  the  will  of  God. 
Place  no  limits  to  your  devotion  to  him.  Never 
interrupt  the  operation  of  his  spirit. 

There  is  a  great  difference  between  pain  and 
trouble.  Simple  pain  is  a  state  of  purification, 
trouble  a  state  of  punishment.  Pain,  if  we  are  not 
unfaithful,  is  sweet  and  tranquil,  from  the  entire 
acquiescence  of  the  soul  in  the  will  of  God.  But 
trouble  is  the  rebellion  of  the  heart  against  him, 
and  an  opposition  of  the  will  to  itself,  and  the 
spirit  is  rent  by  the  division.  But  pain  only  puri- 
fies the  soul  ;  to  be  willing  to  sufler,  is  to  be  in 
peace.  It  is  the  blessed  germ  of  Paradise  in  our 
state  of  probation.  When  we  resist  God,  we  lose 
the  influence  of  his  spirit,  and  in  losing  this,  we 
depart  from  peace,  and  from  that  experience  of 
him,  which  is  to  us  what  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night 
and  the  cloud  ])y  day  were  to  the  Israelites  in  the 
desert. 


LETTERS,  199 


LETTER   X. 


TO    A    MARRIED    WOMAN- 


The  day  of  St.  Francis  cle  Sales  is  a  great  feast 
for  me,  Madam.  You  see  by  his  letters  and  by 
his  life,  that  he  had  risen  above  the  world.  He 
received  with  the  same  peace,  and  the  same  self- 
forgetfulness,  its  greatest  honors  and  its  severest 
contradictions.  His  natural  style  discovers  an  amia- 
ble simplicit}'',  far  above  the  charms  of  the  spirit  of 
this  world.  You  see  a  man  possessed  of  a  profound 
penetration,  and  of  exquisite  judgment  of  things, 
and  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  seeking  only, 
as  a  simple  man,  to  comfort,  to  solace,  to  enlighten, 
to  perfect  his  neighbor.  No  one  had  a  keener  sense 
of  the  highest  perfection,  but  he  brings  himself 
down  to  the  meanest  and  lowest ;  he  makes  him- 
self all  things,  not  that  he  may  please,  but  that  he 
may  gain  all :  and  gain  them  not  for  himself,  but 
for  Jesus  Christ.  This  is  the  spirit  of  the  saint 
that  I  wish  to  impart  to  you.  To  think  of  the 
world,  without  either  contempt  or  hatred,  —  this  is 
a  life  of  faith.  Be  not  intoxicated  with  its  flatte- 
ries, nor  discouraged  by  its  contradictions,  but  main- 
tain an  equal  mind  between  these  two  states,  and 
walk  in  the  presence  of  God  with  a  peaceful  con- 
stancy, looking,  in  the  various  appearances  and 
actions  of  men,  to  God  alone,  who  thus  sometimes 


200  LETTERS. 

supports  our  weaknesses  by  consolations,  and  some- 
times kindly  exercises  our  faith  by  trials.  This  is 
the  true  life  of  the  children  of  God. 

You  will  be  happy  if  you  can  say  from  the  very 
bottom  of  your  heart,  "  Wo  to  the  world."  Its 
conversation  and  its  pleasures  have  yet  too  much 
power  over  you.  They  do  not  deserve  so  much 
of  your  attention.  The  less  you  desire  to  please 
it,  the  more  you  will  be  above  it.  What  is  called 
spirit,  is  only  a  vain  refinement  that  the  world 
teaches.  There  is  no  true  spirit,  but  simple  and 
upright  reason ;  and  among  the  children  of  Adam, 
there  is  no  right  reason,  if  it  be  not  purified  and 
corrected  by  the  spirit  of  God,  that  can  teach  us 
all  truth. 

If  you  wish  to  be  directed  by  the  spirit  of  God, 
listen  no  longer  to  the  world.  Listen  not  to  your 
own  inclinations,  for  they  are  of  the  world.  Desire 
no  spirit  but  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  no  refinements 
but  those  of  the  spirit  of  faith,  that  is  conscious  of 
the  slightest  imperfection  in  virtue.  In  seeking  to 
be  perfect  in  this  way,  with  humility  and  simplicity, 
you  will  be  compassionate  towards  the  infirmities 
of  others,  and  you  will  have  a  true  refinement  of 
mind,  without  disgust  or  contempt  for  things  that 
appear  low.  and  mean,  and  in  bad  taste.  Oh  !  how 
really  low  and  vulgar  is  the  refinement  in  which 
the  world  glories,  when  com])ared  to  that  which  I 
desire  for  you  with  my  whole  heart. 


201 


LETTER   XL 


TO    THE    SAME. 


Do  not  think,  Madam,  that  I  am  wanting  in  zeal 
to  do  you  good.  I  perceive  your  upright  inten- 
tions, and  the  thirst  with  which  God  has  inspired 
you,  for  all  those  truths  that  will  prepare  you  for 
his  service.  I  should  rather  die  than  be  wanting 
in  my  duty  to  the  souls  that  are  confided  to  me, 
and  more  especially  to  yours,  which  is  very  dear 
to  me  in  our  Lord, 

Your  piety  is  too  anxious  and  unquiet.  Do  not 
distrust  God  ;  if  you  are  sincere,  he  will  not  fail 
you  in  your  need.  Either  his  providence  will  fur- 
nish you  with  assistance  from  without,  or  he  will 
supply  you  with  the  power  you  want  within  your- 
self. Believe  him  faithful  in  all  his  promises,  and 
he  will  reward  you  according  to  the  measure  of 
your  faith.  Were  you  abandoned  by  all  mankind 
in  an  inaccessible  desert,  he  would  send  manna 
from  heaven,  he  would  cause  the  water  to  flow 
from  the  rocks. 

Fear  only  lest  you  fail  in  your  duty  to  him,  and 
do  not  fear  even  this  so  as  to  be  troubled.  Support 
yourself  as  you  would  support  your  neighbor,  with- 
out flattering  his  faults.  Be  simple  with  him  who 
dwells  with  the  simple. 


202 


LETTEKS. 


LETTER  XII. 


TO    THE    SAME. 


You  are  right  in  thinking  that  it  is  not  enough 
to  change  the  object  of  ardent  feeling,  and  that 
there  is  an  unquiet  excitement,  which  we  should 
moderate  even  in  the  service  of  God,  and  in  the 
correction  of  our  own  defects. 

This  view  should  assist  you  in  acquiring  calm- 
ness, without  leading  you  to  relax  your  efforts. 
The  ardor  with  which  you  enter  into  the  best 
things  is  an  evil  ;  it  produces  an  agitation  that  be- 
comes still  more  opposed  to  the  peace  of  the  spirit 
of  God,  so  that  from  a  sense  of  politeness  you  are 
induced  to  control  the  expression  of  it.  A  little 
simplicity  would  enable  you  to  practise  the  virtue 
with  more  success  and  less  etfort. 

With  regard  to  your  apparel,  it  appears  to  me 
that  you  should  be  guided  by  the  taste  of  your 
husband ;  it  is  for  him  to  decide  upon  these  little 
proprieties.  If  he  wishes  to  practise  economy  in 
these  things,  you  ought  to  retrench  as  far  as  may 
be  agreeable  to  him.  If  he  desires  that  you  make 
a  certain  appearance,  do,  out  of  complaisance  to 
him,  whatever  you  think  will  please  him,  and  yield 
to  him  yoiu"  own  taste  and  judgment. 

If  he  does  not  regard  these  things,  and  leaves 
you  to  yourself,  a  medium  is  the  best.     You  are 


LETTERS.  203 

fond  of  extremes ;  entire  magnificence  alone  can 
satisfy  your  refined  and  lofty  taste.  A  severe  sim- 
plicity is  another  refinement  of  self-love,  for  we 
then  renounce  grandeur  in  a  striking  manner.  It 
is  mediocrity  that  is  insupportable  to  pride.  There 
is  the  appearance  of  a  want  of  taste,  in  being  dress- 
ed like  a  citizen.  I  am  told  that  you  once  dressed 
like  a  nun.  This  was  too  much  in  appearance,  and 
too  little  in  reality.  A  moderate  appearance  would 
cost  you  a  greater  sacrifice.  You  can  be  truly 
simple,  only  by  keeping  a  true  medium.  All  ex- 
tremes, even  in  right,  have  in  them  a  refined  affec- 
tation. 

The  mediocrity  that  excites  no  attention,  fur- 
nishes no  aliment  to  self-love.  It  is  the  love  of 
God  only  that  does  not  suffer  from  these  severe 
rules.  Your  plain  duty  is,  to  speak  without  reserve 
to  your  husband,  and  to  do  without  hesitation  what- 
ever you  shall  see  will  please  him. 


LETTER    XIII. 

WE     MUST    NOT     SUFFER     FROM     THE      FEAR     OF     TJIE     DEATH    OF 
THOSE    WHOM    WE    LOVE. 

I  PARTAKE  of  the  grief  that  you  feel  at  the  dan- 
gerous illness  of  N .     The  uncertainty  which 


204  _  LETTERS. 

you  have  endured  these  two  days  past,  is  a  severe 
suffering.  Nothing  is  a  greater  trial  to  human  na- 
ture, than  this  suspense  between  a  weak  hope  and 
a  great  fear.  But  we  must  have  faith  in  our  grief. 
Our  sensibility  leads  ns  to  think  that  our  afflictions 
will  be  greater  than  we  can  bear,  but  we -know 
not  the  strength  of  our  own  hearts,  nor  the  power 
of  God.  He  knows  all.  He  knows  every  folding 
of  the  heart  that  is  the  work  of  his  hand,  and  the 
extent  of  the  sorrow  that  he  inflicts,  and  he  will 
proportion  the  one  to  the  other.  Let  him  do  then 
his  pleasure,  and  let  us  be  willing  to  suffer.  It  is 
cowardice  and  sensitiveness,  that  thinks  that  to  be 
impossible  which  in  trutli  is  not.  What  we  think 
will  overwhelm  us  entirely,  only  subdues  and  con- 
quers our  pride,  that  cannot  be  too  much  humbled  ; 
and  the  renewed  spirit  rises  from  its  subjection 
with  a  celestial  strength  and  celestial  consolations. 
Commit  your  friend  to  God.  What  would  be  the 
sacrifice  ?  the  short  and  suffering  life  of  a  being 
who  must  endure  pain  on  earth,  and  who  finds  his 
safety  in  death.  You  will  see  him  again  soon,  not 
under  this  sun  that  shines  upon  vanity  and  afflic- 
tion of  spirit,  but  in  the  pure  light  of  eternal  truth, 
which  will  make  the  felicity  of  all  those  who  be- 
hold it. 

The  more  pure  and  excellent  your  friend  is,  the 
more  worthy  is  he  of  being  set  free  from  this 
world.  It  is  true  that  there  are  few  sincere  friends, 
and  that  it  is  hard  to  lose  them.     But  we  do  not 


LETTERS.  205 

lose  them ;  the  danger  is  only  for  ourselves,  lest 
we  should  be  lost  in  not  following  those  whom  we 
mourn. 

As  for  your  prayers,  have  no  fears  ;  there  can  be 
no  illusion  in  encouraging  the  consciousness  of  the 
presence  of  God,  and  letting  your  mind  dwell  upon 
his  perfection. 

While  you  think  only  of  God  and  truly  love 
him,  and  remembering  his  presence  devote  yourself 
to  him  without  presumption,  and  without  neglect- 
ing any  duty,  you  will  be  in  no  danger ;  follow 
then  your  inclinations. 


LETTER    XIV. 


ON  THE  DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  THE  WILLINGNESS  TO  SUFFER, 
WHICH  GOD  INSPIRES,  AND  THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  MEN  OF 
THE    WORLD. 

I  ABi  touched  with  the  sufferings  of  your  sick 
friend,  but  I  rejoice  that  he  supports  them  so  well. 
You  are  right  in  making  a  distinction  between 
willingness  to  suffer,  and  courage.  Courage  is  a 
certain  elevation  and  strength  of  mind,  with  which 
people  overcome  everything.  Those  minds  that 
are  guided  by  the  spirit  of  God,  and  that  are  con- 
scious of  their  own  weakness,  do  what  is  necessary 
to  be  done,  without  being  aware  of  their  own 
18 


206  LETTETiS, 

Strength,  and  without  any  assurance  of  success. 
They  endure  and  overcome  by  an  mexplicable 
power,  that  is  within  them  without  their  knowing 
it,  that  comes  to  them  as  occasion  requires,  as  if  it 
were  borrowed,  and  that  they  do  not  think  of  appro- 
priating to  themselves.  They  are  not  thinking  of 
suffering  well,  but  insensibly  they  are  able  to  bear 
every  trial  to  the  end,  in  peace  and  simplicity,  with- 
out any  other  desire,  than  that  the  will  of  God  be 
fulfilled. 

There  is  nothing  brilliant,  nothing  grand,  noth- 
ing striking  in  the  eyes  of  others,  and  still  less  in 
their  own  eyes,  in  this.  If  you  tell  them  that  they 
have  suffered  nobly,  they  will  not  understand  you. 
They  do  not  know  themselves  how  all  this  comes 
to  pass  ;  they  scarcely  know  what  is  in  their  own 
hearts,  and  they  do  not  seek  to  know.  Tf  they 
endeavored  to  know,  they  would  lose  something 
of  their  simplicity.  This  is  what  we  call  perfect 
good  will,  that  makes  less  show,  but  is  far  greater 
than  what  is  called  courage.  It  is  like  Avater,  the 
less  taste  or  color  it  has,  the  purer  it  is  :  and  it  is 
its  purity  that  makes  it  transparent.  This  good 
will,  which  is  only  a  love  of  the  will  of  God,  be- 
comes, upon  every  occasion,  just  what  it  should  be, 
that  it  may  conform  itself  to  him.  Happy  are  those 
who  have  the  beginning,  the  seeds  within  them, 
of  this  unspeakable  good  ! 


LETTERS.  207 


LETTER   XV. 

UPON      BEAKING      WITH      OURSELVES      WITH      CHARITY  ;        AND 
ENDEAVORING     QUIETLY     TO     CORRECT     OUR     FAULTS. 

People  avIio  love  themselves  as  they  love  their 
neighbor,  will  endure  their  own  failings,  as  they 
do  their  neighbor's,  with  charity.  They  will  see 
the  defects  to  be  corrected  in  themselves  as  they  see 
those  of  others  :  and  tliey  will  manage  themselves 
as  they  wonld  another,  whom  they  would  lead 
to  God.  They  are  patient  with  themselves,  and 
only  insist  upon  those  things  that  may  be  accom- 
plished nnder  present  circnmstances.  They  are 
not  discouraged  because  they  cannot  be  perfect  in 
one  day.  They  condemn,  without  any  qualifica- 
tion, the  slightest  imperfection  ;  — they  see  it  in  all 
its  deformity,  they  endure  the  consciousness  of  it 
in  all  humility  and  sorrow,  and  they  neglect  noth- 
ing to  cure  themselves  ;  but  they  are  not  fretful  in 
the  performance  of  this  duty.  They  do  not  listen 
to  those  murmurings  of  their  pride  and  self-love, 
which  would  mingle  their  complaints  with  the 
deep  but  quiet  emotions,  which  the  spirit  of  God 
inspires  within  us  for  the  correction  of  our  faults. 

These  useless  murnnirs  only  serve  to  discourage 
the  soul,  and  to  occupy  it  with  all  the  refinements 
of  self-love,  and  to  separate  it  from  God  ;  to  lead  it 
to  seek  for  consolations  contrary  to  his  will  ,•  to 


208  LETTERS. 

weary,  distract,  and  exhaust  it ;  and  to  prepare  for 
it  a  sort  of  disgust  and  despair  of  being  able  to  hold 
on  its  course. 

Nothing  retards  the  progress  of  the  mind  more 
than  troubles  of  this  nature,  when  we  voluntarily 
seek  them  ;  but  when  we  only  endure  them,  with- 
out producing  them  by  reflections  induced  by  self- 
love,  then  they  will,  like  our  trials,  become  sources 
of  virtue,  they  will  be  ranked  among  the  other 
tests  of  our  virtue,  which  God  sees  are  necessary 
for  our  purification ;  and  we  must  submit  to  them 
as  we  should  to  a  fit  of  sickness. 

Nevertheless,  we  must  pursue  our  labor  within, 
and  our  outward  acts  of  duty  as  far  as  we  are  at 
liberty  to  do  it.  Prayer  will  not  be  less  a  privilege 
in  this  state,  nor  less  enjoyed  ;  our  love  will  not 
be  less  animated  and  true  ;  the  presence  of  God 
will  not  be  less  distinct  nor  less  consoling,  our  duties 
will  not  be  less  faithfully  fulfilled.  But  our  con- 
stancy is  certainly  greater  when  maintained  under 
such  painful  circumstances.  It  is  a  greater  force 
that  carries  a  row-boat  against  wind  and  tide  a  quar- 
ter of  a  league,  than  impels  it  a  whole  league  when 
it  has  them  both  in  its  favor. 

We  must  treat  these  complainings  of  our  self- 
love,  as  some  people  treat  the  vapors.  They  take 
no  notice  of  them,  and  act  as  if  they  did  not  feel 
them. 


LETTERS.  209 


LETTER    XVI. 

UPON     AVOIDING      ANXIETY     ABOUT     THE     FUTURE,    AND     LIVING 
A     LIFE     OF     FAITH     AND     TRUST     IN     GOD. 

Do  not  dwell  upon  remote  events ;  this  anxiety 
about  the  future  is  contrary  to  a  religious  state  of 
mind.  When  God  bestows  any  blessing  upon  you, 
look  only  to  him  in  the  comfort  that  you  receive, 
and  take  every  day  of  the  manna  tliat  he  sends  you, 
as  the  Israelites  did,  without  making  yourself  any 
provision  for  the  morrow. 

A  life  of  faith  produces  two  things.  First,  it 
enables  us  to  see  God  in  everything.  Secondly,  it 
holds  the  mind  in  a  state  of  readiness  for  whatever 
may  be  his  will.  We  must  trust  to  God  for  what- 
ever depends  upon  him,  and  only  think  of  being 
faithful  ourselves  in  the  performance  of  our  duties. 
This  continual,  unceasing  dependence,  this  state  of 
entire  peace  and  acquiescence  of  the  soul  in  what- 
ever may  happen,  is  the  true,  silent  martyrdom  of 
self.  It  is  so  slow,  and  gradual,  and  internal,  that 
they  who  experience  it,  are  hardly  conscious  of  it. 

When  God  deprives  you  of  any  blessing,  he  can 
replace  it,  either  by  other  instruments,  or  by  him- 
self. The  very  stones  can  in  his  hands  become  the 
children  of  Abraham.  Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the 
evil  thereof;  the  morrow  Avill  take  care  of  itself. 
He  who  has  fed  you  to-day,  will  take  care  of  you 
to-morrow. 

18* 


210  LETTERS. 

We  shall  sooner  see  the  manna  fall  from  heaven 
in  the  desert,  than  the  children  of  God  shall  want 
support. 


LETTER  XVII. 

ON     THE     PROPER     CONTEMPLATION     OF     OUR     DEFECTS. 

There  is  a  very  subtle  illusion  in  your  disqui- 
etude ;  for  you  appear  to  be  occupied  with  what 
is  due  to  God  and  his  glory,  but  at  the  bottom  you 
are  really  full  of  yourself.  You  wish  that  God 
should  be  glorified,  but  it  is  by  your  own  perfec- 
tion ;  and  by  this  means,  you  enter  into  all  the  re- 
finement and  sinuosities  of  self-love.  This  is  merely 
an  ingenious  contrivance  for  thinking  of  yourself. 
The  true  use  to  be  made  of  all  the  imperfections, 
of  which  you  are  conscious,  is  neither  to  justify 
nor  to  condemn  them,  but  to  present  them  before 
God,  conforming  your  will  to  his,  and  remaining 
in  peace ;  for  peace  is  the  divine  order,  in  whatever 
state  we  may  be. 


LETTER   XVIII. 


TRUE     FRIENDSHIP     IS     FOI'ND     BY     DRAWING     NEAR     TO     GOD, 
AND     SU15DUING     SELF. 

We  ought  to  receive,  without  any  desire  to  choose 
for  ourselves,  whatever  God  gives  us.    It  is  just  that 


LETTERS.  211 

his  will  and  not  ours  should  be  done,  and  that 
without  any  reserve  it  should  become  ours ;  and 
then  this  world  would  be  like  heaven.  This  is  a 
far  greater  happiness  than  to  see  and  converse  with 
our  friends,  or  to  receive  the  consolations  that  they 
can  afford. 

How  intimately  are  we  united,  when  we  truly 
meet  in  the  love  and  presence  of  God.  How  well 
do  we  speak,  when  our  wills  and  our  thoughts  are 
full  of  him,  who  is  all  in  all.  Do  you  then  de- 
sire true  friends  ?  Seek  them  only  at  the  source  of 
eternal  friendships.  Do  you  wish  to  hold  inter- 
course with  them  ?  Listen  in  silence  to  Him  who 
is  the  word,  the  life  and  the  soul  of  all  those  who 
speak  the  truth  and  who  live  in  uprightness.  You 
will  find  in  God,  not  only  all  that  you  want,  but 
all  that  is  so  imperfectly  manifested  by  those  in. 
whom  you  trust. 

You  cannot  do  too  much  to  correct  your  natural 
impetuosity  and  habit  of  following  your  love  of 
activity.  To  be  silent,  to  suffer,  to  judge  no  one 
without  actual  necessity,  and  to  listen  to  the  voice 
of  God  within  you,  —  this  will  be  like  a  continual 
prayer  and  sacrifice  of  self 


212  LETTERS. 


LETTER   XIX. 

ON      THE     ADVANTAGE     OF     BEING     BROUGHT     NEAR     TO     DEATH. 

It  is  good  for  ns  to  approach  the  gates  of  death. 
We  become  familiar  with  what  Ave  must  very  soon 
know.  We  ought  to  know  oiu'selves  better,  when 
we  have  come  so  near  to  the  judgment  of  God, 
and  the  rays  of  eternal  truth.  How  great,  how 
overwhehiiing  is  the  thought  of  God  when  we  are 
so  near  to  him,  when  the  veil  that  has  hidden  him 
is  so  near  being  lifted  up  !  Improve  this  grace  of 
God  towards  you,  by  detaching  yourself  from  the 
world,  and  still  more  from  yourself,  for  this  cling- 
ing to  others  is  in  truth  for  the  sake  of  self. 

Love  God,  then,  and  renounce  self  in  your  love 
for  him.  Love  neither  your  spirit,  nor  your  courage. 
Cherish  no  self-complacency  on  account  of  the  gifts 
of  God  to  you,  such  as  disinterestedness,  equity, 
sincerity,  generosity.  All  these  are  from  him  ;  but 
they  may  be  turned  into  poison,  if  they  inflate  self- 
love.  We  must  be  little  in  our  own  eyes,  and 
ever  act  in  this  spirit. 


LETTERS.  213 

t 

LETTER   XX. 

UPON     YIELDING     WHAT     IS     DUE     TO     OTHERS,    AND     STILL     DE- 
VOTING    TIME     TO     RELIGIOUS     MEDITATION. 

I  PITY  you  ;  but  we  must  suffer.  We  are  placed 
in  this  world  that  we  may  be  purified  by  sacrificing 
our  own  inclinations  and  dying  to  self.  You  are 
called  upon  for  this  sacrifice ;  shrink  not  from  it. 
I  acknowledge  that  you  should  not  relinquish  your 
rules  for  the  regulation  of  your  time  ;  but  you  may 
gain  in  detail  what  you  use  in  the  mass.  You 
must  manage  a  little.  You  must  proceed  with 
caution,  be  guided  by  circumstances,  yield  in  little 
things;  and  in  those  that  you  think  essential,  you 
must  exercise  all  your  firmness.  But  remember 
that  true  firmness  is  gentle,  humble,  and  tranquil. 
All  violent,  haughty,  and  unquiet  firmness  is  un- 
worthy the  cause  of  religion.  When  you  are  led 
to  act  with  harshness,  acknowledge  it  hiunbly ; 
but  adhere  to  your  principle;  and  while  you  con- 
fess the  fault  in  your  manners,  maintain  your  rule. 

With  these  restrictions,  you  cannot  be  too  com- 
plaisant, too  kind,  too  affectionate  ;  there  is  no  book, 
no  prayer,  that  can  improve  you  so  much  as  this 
continual  self-subjection,  provided  you  make  a 
proper  use  of  it  in  your  hours  of  retirement,  and 
the  dissipations  of  business  do  not  exhaust  the  foun- 
tain of  your  affections.     In  fine,  devote  as  much 


214  LETTERS. 

H 
time  as  you  can  to  religious  meditation,  and  give  the 

rest  of  your  life  to  charity,  which  never  faints,  which 

suffers  long,  and  which  thinks  not  of  itself. 


LETTER  XXI. 

ON     CALMLY     ENDURING     THE     IRREGULARITIES     OF     OTHERS. 

A  HEATED  imagination,  violent  feelings,  hosts  of 
reasons,  and  volleys  of  words,  effect  nothing.  The 
right  way  is  to  act  as  in  the  presence  of  God,  di- 
vested of  self,  doing  according  to  the  light  we  have 
what  we  are  able  to  do,  and  satisfied  with  what  suc- 
cess he  may  grant  us.  This  is  a  joyful  state  of 
self-oblivion,  that  few  persons  understand.  A  word 
uttered  in  this  simplicity  and  peace  produces  a 
greater  effect,  even  in  external  affairs,  than  all  the 
most  violent  and  eager  efforts.  As  it  is  the  spirit 
of  God  that  speaks,  it  speaks  with  his  power  and 
authority  ;  it  enlightens,  it  persuades,  it  touches,  it 
edifies.  We  seem  to  have  said  nothing,  but  we 
have  done  everything.  On  the  contrary,  when  we 
are  guided  by  our  own  natural  impulses,  we  think 
we  cannot  say  enough.  We  make  a  thousand  vain 
and  superfluous  reflections ;  we  are  always  afraid 
that  wc  shall  not  do  or  say  enough.  We  are  ex- 
cited, wc  exhaust  ourselves,  we  grow  angry,  we 
depart  from  the  o])jcct,  and  no  good  is  done. 


X.ETTERS.  215 

Your  temperament  requires  many  of  these  les- 
sons. Let  the  waters  flow  on  in  their  conrse.  Let 
men  be  men  ;  that  is  to  say,  be  vain,  inconstant, 
unjust,  false,  and  presumptuous.  Let  the  world  be 
the  world ;  you  cannot  help  it.  Let  each  one  fol- 
low his  own  bent,  and  his  own  ways;  you  cannot 
form  him  over  again.  It  is  wiser  to  leave  men  to 
themselves,  and  to  endure  them.  Accustom  your- 
self to  unreasonableness  and  injustice.  Remain  at 
peace  in  the  presence  of  God,  who  knows  all  your 
trials  and  permits  them.  Be  satisfied  with  doing 
with  calmness,  what  depends  upon  yourself,  and 
let  the  rest  be  as  if  it  were  not. 


LETTER   XXn. 

UPON     SUFFERING     ILL-TREATMENT     WITH     HUMILITY      AND 
IN      SILENCE. 

I  AM  touched,  as  I  ought  to  be,  with  all  your 
sorrows  ;  but  I  can  only  pity  you,  and  pray  God  to 
console  you.  You  greatly  need  his  spirit  to  sup- 
port you  in  your  trial,  and  to  temper  your  natural 
excitabiUty  on  an  occasion  so  calculated  to  awaken 
it.  When  God  would  teach  us  to  die  to  ourselves, 
he  touches  us  in  the  tenderest  part ;  our  weakness 
is  the  measure  of  our  trial.  Be  humble.  Silence 
and  peace,  in  a  state  of  humiliation,  are  the  true 


216  LETTERS. 

t 

health  of  the  soul.  We  are  tempted  to  speak  hum- 
bly, aud  we  find  a  thousand  excuses  for  it ;  it  is 
still  better  to  be  silent,  for  the  humility  that  speaks 
may  be  suspected.  Self-love  consoles  itself  a  little 
by  speaking. 

Do  not  be  vexed  at  what  people  say.  Let  them 
speak,  while  you  endeavor  to  do  the  will  of  God. 
You  will  never  succeed  in  pleasing  men,  and  it 
would  not  be  worth  the  trouble  if  you  could.  A 
little  silence,  peace,  and  communion  with  God,  will 
compensate  you  for  all  the  injustice  of  men.  We 
must  love  our  fellow-beings,  without  depending 
upon  their  friendship.  They  leave  us,  they  return, 
and  they  go  from  us  again.  Let  them  go  or  come, 
it  is  the  feather  blown  about  by  the  wind.  Fix 
your  attention  upon  God  alone,  in  your  connexion 
with  them.  It  is  he  alone,  who  through  them  con- 
soles or  afflicts  you. 

All  your  firmness  is  required  in  the  situation  in 
which  you  are  placed;  but  your  impetuosity  must 
meet  with  trials  and  obstacles.  Possess  your  soul 
in  patience.  Renew  often  within  you  the  feeling 
of  the  presence  of  God,  that  you  may  learn  mod- 
eration. There  is  nothing  truly  great,  but  lowli- 
ness, charity,  fear  of  ourselves,  and  detachment 
from  the  dominion  of  sense. 


LETTERS.  217 

# 


LETTER   XXIII. 

UPON     CARRYING     THE     SPIRIT     OF     PRAYER     INTO     ALL     OUR 
ACTIONS. 

Do  not  be  discouraged  at  your  faults ;  bear  with 
yourself  in  correcting  them,  as  you  would  with 
your  neighbor.  Lay  aside  this  ardor  of  mind, 
which  exhausts  your  body,  and  leads  you  to  com- 
mit errors.  Accustom  yourself  gradually  to  carry 
prayer  into  your  daily  occupations.  Speak,  move, 
act  in  i^eace,  as  if  you  were  in  prayer.  In  truth, 
this  is  prayer. 

Do  everything  without  eagerness,  as  if  by  the 
spirit  of  God.  As  soon  as  you  perceive  your  nat- 
ural impetuosity  impelling  you,  retire,  into  the 
sanctuary,  where  dwells  the  Father  of  Spirits : 
listen  to  what  you  there  hear ;  and  then  neither 
say  nor  do  anything  but  what  he  dictates  in  your 
heart. 

You  VvTill  find  that  you  will  become  more  tran- 
quil ;  that  your  words  will  be  fewer  and  more  to 
the  purpose,  and  that  with  less  eifort  you  will  ac- 
complish more  good.  I  do  not  recommend  here  a 
perpetual  struggle  of  the  understanding  after  some- 
thing impracticable,  but  a  habit  of  quietness  and 
peace,  in  which  you  may  take  counsel  of  God  with 
regard  to  duty.  This  you  will  fmd  a  simpler  and 
shorter  consultation  than  the  eager  and  tumulutous 
19 


218  LETTERS. 

debates  which  you  usually  hold  with  self,  when 
you  yield  to  your  natural  impetuosity. 

When  the  heart  is  fixed  on  God,  it  can  easily 
accustom  itself  to  suspend  the  natural  movements 
of  ardent  feeling,  and  to  wait  for  the  favorable  mo- 
ment when  the  voice  within  may  speak.  This  is 
the  continual  sacrifice  of  self  and  the  life  of  faith. 
This  death  of  self  is  a  blessed  life  ;  for  the  grace 
that  brings  peace  succeeds  to  the  passions  that  pro- 
duce trouble.  Endeavor  to  acquire  a  habit  of  look- 
ing to  this  light  within  you  ;  then  all  your  life  will 
gradually  become  a  prayer.  You  may  suffer,  but 
you  will  find  peace  in  suffering. 


LETTER   XXIV. 

UPON   OUR  DUTY  IN  A  STATE   OF  PEACE   AND   HAPPINESS. 

I  AM  rejoiced  that  you  are  so  pleased  with  your 
retreat,  and  that  God  gives  you  so  much  peace 
within  and  without.  I  pray  that  he  who  has  com- 
menced this  good  work,  may  finish  it.  It  is  for 
you  to  profit  by  it.  You  must  improve  this  time 
of  peace  by  reflection.  You  must  send  up  from 
your  heart  that  continual  Amen,  and  that  unceas- 
ing ITallcluiah,  which  resound  through  the  heav- 
enly Jerusalem.  This  is  a  perfect  acquiescence  in 
the  will  of  God,  and  a  sacrifice  without  any  reserve 
of  our  will  to  his. 


LETTERS. 


219 


We  must  at  the  same  time  listen  to  the  voice  of 
God,  with  our  hearts  free  from  all  flattering  partiali- 
ties of  self-love,  and  faithfully  receive  and  attend 
to  this  light  Avhen  it  shows  us  our  faults,  and  cor- 
rect them.  What  it  points  out  as  wrong,  we  must 
relinquish,  however  great  be  the  sacrifice.  When 
we  thus  yield  ourselves  up  to  the  spirit  of  God  with 
a  perfect  renunciation  of  self,  we  discover  imper- 
fections in  our  best  Avorks,  and  find  within  us  an 
inexhaustible  fund  of  faults  before  imperceptible. 
Then  we  say  that  God  alone  is  good.  We  strive 
to  correct  ourselves  in  a  quiet  and  simple  manner ; 
but  our  eff'orts  are  continual,  equal,  efficacious,  and 
deep  and  earnest  in  proportion  as  the  heart  is  fixed 
and  undivided. 

While  all  our  trust  is  in  help  from  God,  we  do 
not  relax  our  own  exertions.  We  know  that  he 
will  never  fail  us,  and  that  it  is  only  we  that  are 
unfaithful  to  him.  We  condemn  ourselves  without 
being  discouraged,  and  we  correct  our  faults  while 
we  retain  our  strength. 


LETTER   XXV. 


THE     EXPERIENCE     OF     OUR     FAULTS,    AND     THE     DIFFICULTY     OF 
CURING     THEM,    SHOULD     TEACH     US     HUMILITY. 

I  ACKNOWLEDGE  that  I  am  glad  to  see  you  op- 
pressed with  a  sense  of  your  defects  and  your  in- 


220 


LETTERS. 


ability  to  correct  them.  This  despair  of  nature 
that  leads  us  to  trust  only  in  God,  is  what  he  him- 
self wills.     It  is  then  that  he  srives  us  the  aid  that 

°  it 

we  need. 

It  is  true  that  you  have  a  hasty  and  severe  dis- 
position, and  a  fretful  character,  that  is  too  sensi- 
tive to  the  faults  of  others,  and  that  renders  it  diffi- 
cult to  efface  impressions  wiiich  you  receive.  But 
it  is  not  your  natural  temperament  that  God  con- 
demns ;  for  this  you  have  not  chosen,  and  are  not 
able  to  change.  It  may  be  the  means  of  your  sal- 
vation, if  you  bear  it  rightly  as  a  trial.  But  what 
God  requires  of  you,  is,  that  you  actually  perform 
those  duties  for  which  his  grace  gives  you  ability. 
What  is  required,  is,  if  you  cannot  be  gentle  in 
your  exterior,  to  be  humble  in  your  heart ;  to  re- 
strain your  natural  haughtiness  as  soon  as  you  per- 
ceive it ;  to  repair  the  evil  you  have  done,  by  your 
humility.  The  duty  you  are  called  to  practise,  is 
a  real,  genuine  lowliness  of  heart  upon  all  occa- 
sions, a  sincere  renunciation  of  self. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  the  high  opinion  enter- 
tained by  many  persons  of  your  decisions  for  so 
many  years,  has  insensibly  encouraged  in  you  a 
secret  confidence  in  yourself,  and  a  ]icnUcur  of 
which  you  are  not  aware.  The  hasty  expressions 
into  which  your  temper  sometimes  betrays  you, 
may  perhaps  reveal  to  you  the  haughtiness,  that, 
without  this  natural  frankness,  you  would  not  dis- 
cover.    But  the  source  of  the  evil  is  within  ;  it  is 


LETTERS.  221 

this  high  opinion  of  yourself,  that  has  lain  hidden 
so  long  under  some  specious  name.  Be  then  as 
humble  in  the  contemplation  of  your  own  defects 
as  you  have  been  elevated  by  your  office  in  judging 
the  defects  of  others.  Accustom  yourself  to  see 
others  neglect  your  opinion,  and  give  up  judging 
them.  At  least,  if  you  say  anything,  let  it  be  said 
in  simplicity,  not  to  decide  or  correct,  but  merely 
to  propose  a  question  and  to  seek  for  information. 
In  a  word,  the  object  is  to  place  yourself  upon 
a  level  with  the  lowest  and  most  imperfect ;  to 
encourage  in  them  a  freedom,  which  must  make 
it  easy  for  them  to  open  their  hearts  to  you.  If 
you  have  anything  to  bestow  upon  them,  let  it  be 
consolation  and  support  rather  than  correction. 


LETTER   XXVI. 


WE     MUST     ENDURE     THE     FAULTS     OF     OTHERS,    AND     BE     WILL- 
ING    OURSELVES     TO     RECEIVE     BLAME. 

It  appears  to  me  that  your  heart  wants  enlarge- 
ment with  regard  to  the  faults  of  others.  I  grant 
that  you  cannot  help  seeing  them  when  they  are 
presented  to  your  notice,  and  cannot  avoid  the 
opinions  produced  in  your  mind  by  the  principles 
on  which  some  people  apparently  proceed.  You 
cannot  even  avoid  a  degree  of  pain  which  these 
19* 


222  LETTERS. 

things  must  occasion.  It  is  enough  if  you  are 
willing  to  bear  with  some  faults :  form  no  judg- 
ment in  doubtful  cases,  and  do  not  cherish  that 
degree  of  pain  that  would  separate  you  from  those 
who  are  imperfect.  Perfection  easily  supports  the 
imperfections  of  others.  It  makes  itself  all  things 
to  all.  We  must  familiarize  ourselves  to  the  greatest 
defects  of  good  men,  and  quietly  leave  them  till 
the  time  when  God  shall  indicate  the  moment  for 
undertaking  their  cure  ;  otherwise  we  may  destroy 
the  good  grain  with  the  chaff. 

Such  persons  must  strive  according  to  their 
strength  for  their  own  improvement,  and  we  must 
bear  with  their  weaknesses.  You  ought  to  remem- 
ber, from  your  own  experience,  how  bitter  is  this 
correction  ;  and  this  should  lead  you  to  soften  it  to 
others.  I  ask  of  you  with  more  earnestness  than 
ever,  that  you  will  not  spare  me  with  regard  to  my 
faults.  If  your  opinion  of  my  defects  gives  me 
pain,  this  sensibility  will  prove  that  you  have 
touched  me  in  a  tender  part.  Thus  you  will  have 
done  me  a  great  good,  in  exercising  my  humility, 
and  accustoming  me  to  be  blamed.  I  ought  to  be 
more  lowly  in  my  mind,  as  I  am  more  elevated 
from  my  situation,  and  as  God  demands  of  me  a 
greater  sacrifice  of  myself.  I  stand  in  need  of  this 
simplicity,  and  I  hope  it  will  strengthen  the  union 
between  us. 


LETTERS.  223 


LETTER    XXVII. 

UPON     THE     CIRCUMSPECTION     THAT     IS     NECESSARY     IN     COR- 
RECTING   OTHERS,    AND    IN    JUDGING    OF    WHAT    IS    WRONG. 

While  we  are  so  iiiiperfect,  we  can  understand 
only  in  part.  The  same  self-love  that  causes  our 
defects,  injuriously  hides  them  from  ourselves  and 
from  others.  Self-love  cannot  bear  the  view  of  it- 
self. It  finds  some  hiding-place,  it  places  itself  in 
some  flattering  light  to  soften  its  ugliness.  Thus 
there  is  always  some  illusion  in  us,  while  we  are 
so  imperfect  and  have  so  much  love  of  ourselves. 

Self-love  must  be  uprooted,  and  the  love  of  God 
take  its  place  in  our  hearts,  before  we  can  see  our- 
selves as  we  are.  Then  the  same  principle  that 
enables  us  to  see  our  imperfections  will  destroy 
them.  When  the  light  of  truth  has  risen  within 
us,  then  we  see  clearly  what  is  there.  Then  we 
love  ourselves  without  partiality,  without  flattery, 
as  we  love  our  neighbor.  In  the  mean  time,  God 
spares  us,  by  discovering  our  weakness  to  us,  just 
in  proportion  as  our  strength  to  support  the  view 
of  it  increases.  We  discover  our  imperfections  one 
by  one,  as  we  are  able  to  cure  them.  Without  this 
merciful  preparation,  that  adapts  our  strength  to  the 
light  within,  we  should  be  in  despair. 

They  who  correct  others  ouglit  to  watch  the 
moment  when  God  touches  their  hearts ;  we  must 


224  LETTERS. 

bear  a  fault  with  patience,  till  we  perceive  his 
spirit  rej)roaching  them  within.  We  must  imitate 
him  who  gently  reproves,  so  that  they  feel  that  it 
is  less  God  than  their  own  hearts,  that  condemns 
them.  When  we  blame  with  impatience  because 
we  are  displeased  with  the  fault,  it  is  a  human  cen- 
sure, and  not  the  disapprobation  of  God.  It  is  a 
sensitive  self-love  that  cannot  forgive  the  self-love 
of  others.  The  more  self-love  we  have,  the  more 
severe  our  censures.  There  is  nothing  so  vexa- 
tious as  the  collisions  between  one  excessive  self- 
love,  and  another  still  more  violent  and  sensitive. 
The  passions  of  others  are  infinitely  ridiculous  to 
those  who  are  under  the  dominion  of  their  own. 
The  ways  of  God  are  very  different.  He  is  ever 
full  of  kindness  for  us,  he  gives  us  strength,  he  re- 
gards us  with  pity  and  condescension,  he  remem- 
bers our  weakness,  he  waits  for  us.  The  less  we 
love  ourselves,  the  more  considerate  we  are  of 
others.  We  wait  even  years  to  give  salutary  ad- 
vice. We  wait  for  Providence  to  give  the  occasion, 
and  grace  to  open  their  hearts  to  receive  it.  If 
you  would  gather  the  fruit  before  its  time,  you  lose 
it  entirely. 

Onr  imperfect  friends  can  know  us  only  imper- 
fectly ;  the  same  self-love  that  hides  their  defects, 
magnifies  ours.  They  sec  in  us  what  we  cannot 
see,  and  they  arc  acquainted  with  what  Ave  our- 
selves know.  They  are  quick  to  discover  what  is 
disagreeable  to  them,  but  they  do  not  perceive  the 


LETTERS. 


225 


defects  that  lie  deep  within,  and  that  snlly  onr  vir- 
tues and  displease  God  alone.  Thus  their  best 
judgments  are  superficial. 

My  conclusion  is,  that  we  must  listen  to  the 
voice  of  God  in  the  silence  of  our  souls,  and  pro- 
noimce  for  or  against  ourselves,  whatever  this  pure 
light  may  reveal  to  us  at  the  moment  when  we 
thus  endeavor  to  know  ourselves.  We  must  often 
silently  listen  to  this  teacher  within,  Avho  will  make 
known  all  truth  to  us,  and  who,  if  we  are  foithful 
in  attending  to  him,  will  often  lead  us  to  silence. 
When  we  hear  this  secret  small  voice  within,  which 
is  the  soul  of  our  soul,  it  is  a  proof  that  self  is  silent, 
that  it  may  listen  to  it.  This  voice  is  not  a  stranger 
there.  God  is  in  our  souls,  as  our  souls  are  in  our 
bodies.  It  is  something  that  we  cannot  distinguish 
exactly,  but  it  is  what  upholds  and  guides  us. 
This  is  not  a  miraculous  inspiration,  which  exposes 
us  to  illusion  and  fanaticism.  It  is  only  a  profound 
peace  of  the  soul,  that  yields  itself  up  to  the  spirit 
of  God,  believing  his  revealed  word,  and  practising 
his  commands  as  declared  in  the  Gospel. 


LETTER    XXVIII. 


A     LETTER     OF     CONSOLATION. 


I  THINK  much  of  you  and  your  sufferings.     God 
will  send  his  consolations  into  the  depths  of  your 


226 


soul.  The  wound  is  terrible,  but  his  hand  is  all- 
powerful  to  heal.  It  is  only  the  senses  and  the 
imagination  that  have  lost  their  object.  He  whom 
we  do  not  see,  is  more  truly  with  us  than  he  ever 
was.  We  shall  meet  him  in  our  common  centre. 
Although  I  have  not  seen  him  for  many  years,  yet 
I  have  felt  as  if  I  conversed  with  him ;  I  have 
opened  my  heart  to  him,  and  believed  that  we  have 
met  in  the  presence  of  God ;  and  although  I  have 
wept  bitterly  at  his  death,  I  cannot  think  that  I 
have  lost  him.  Oh !  the  reality  of  this  intimate 
and  invisible  communion  which  the  children  of 
God  enjoy ! 

I  am  anxious  about  your  health  ;  when  the  heart 
is  sick,  the  whole  body  suffers.  I  fear  lest  every 
object  should  awaken  your  grief  We  must  enter 
into  the  designs  of  God,  and  try  to  receive  the 
comforts  that  he  bestows.  We  shall  soon  find  him 
whom  we  seem  to  have  lost ;  we  approach  him 
with  rapid  strides.  Yet  a  little  while,  and  we  shall 
shed  no  more  tears.  We  shall  die  ourselves.  He 
whom  we  love  lives,  and  will  never  die.  This  is 
what  Ave  believe  :  if  we  believe  it  rightly,  we  shall 
feel  in  respect  to  our  friends  as  Jesus  Christ  wished 
that  his  disciples  should  feel  with  regard  to  him 
when  he  rose  to  heaven.  "  If  you  loved  me," 
said  he,  '•  you  would  rejoice  "  in  my  glory.  But 
we  wee])  for  ourselves.*  For  a  true  friend  of  God, 
who  has  been  faithful  and  humble,  we  can  only 
rejoice  at  liis  happiness,  and  at  tiie  blessing  that 


LETTERS.  227 

he  has  left  upon  those  who  belonged  to  him  on 
earth.  Let  your  grief,  then,  be  soothed  by  the 
hand  of  Him  who  has  afflicted  you. 


LETTER   XXIX. 

ON     THE     EFFECTS     OF     EFFEMINACY     AND     RULES     OF     CONDUCT 
BY     WHICH     IT     MAY     BE     OVERCOME. 

Your  greatest  danger  is  from  effeminacy  and 
love  of  pleasure.  These  two  defects  may  put  the 
soul  in  dreadful  disorder,  even  where  it  has  resolved 
to  practise  virtue,  and  feels  a  great  horror  of  vice. 
Effeminacy  is  a  languor  of  the  mind,  that  paralyzes 
and  destroys  its  better  life  ;  it  hides  Avitliin  it  a 
treacherous  flame,  that  evil  passions  are  ever  ready 
to  kindle,  and  that  will  consume  all  before  it. 

We  must  cherish,  then,  a  manly,  vigorous  faith, 
that,  without  even  listening  to  this  weakness,  can 
conquer  it.  As  soon  as  we  listen  to,  or  make  any 
terms  with  it,  we  are  lost.  It  injures  us  as  much 
in  our  connexion  with  the  world  as  with  God.  An 
effeminate  man  devoted  to  amusemenrs,  will  ever 
be  a  poor  man,  and  if  he  ever  gets  into  an  important 
place,  he  will  dishonor  it.  Such  a  one  is  not  a 
man,  he  is  half  a  woman.  A  love  of  ease  will  lead 
him  away  from  his  true  interest.  He  can  neither 
cultivate   his  talents,  nor  acquire  the  knowledge 


228  LETTERS. 

necessary  for  his  profession,  nor  submit  to  the  labor 
of  a  difficult  office,  nor  endure  the  constraint  that 
is  necessary  to  please  others,  nor  can  he  apply  him- 
self courageously  to  the  correction  of  his  faults. 

What  shall  such  a  man  do  ?  He  is  good  for 
nothing ;  he  is  incapable  of  any  good  thing,  but  he 
may  fall  into  great  evils.  Pleasure  will  betray  him. 
It  is  not  for  nothing  that  the  senses  are  flattered. 
After  appearing  indolent  and  insensible,  they  will 
become  furious  and  ungovernable  ;  and  this  con- 
suming fire  will  not  be  perceived,  till  it  can  no 
longer  be  quelled. 

Even  your  religious  sentiments,  if  they  are 
mingled  with  this  effeminate  spirit,  while  they  may 
lead  you  to  a  life  of  seriousness  and  exterior  de- 
cency, will  have  nothing  real  in  them.  You  think 
much  of  relinquishing  the  follies  of  youth  ;  religion 
is  only  a  pretext  for  abandoning  them.  The  truth 
is,  that  they  are  irksome  to  you.  You  have  lost 
your  relish  for  them,  and  it  is  a  matter  of  taste 
with  you,  to  lead  a  serious  and  sober  life  ;  but  this 
seriousness,  I  fear,  is  as  vacant  and  as  dangerous  as 
the  folly  and  gayety  of  pleasure.  A  serious  sen- 
sualist, whose  passions  reign  amidst  gloom  and  re- 
tirement, leads  an  obscure,  cowardly,  and  corrupt 
life,  at  which  the  world,  earthly-minded  as  it  is, 
shudders  with  horror.  You  may  (piit  the  Avorld, 
not  for  C>od,  but  to  b<l* devoted  to  your  passions  ; 
or  at  least  for  a  life  of  indolence,  which  is  offensive 
to  God,  and  which  in  the  eyes  of  men  is  more  con- 


LETTERS. 


229 


temptible  than  the  more  depraved  passions.  You 
may  rehnquish  great  objects,  to  be  absorbed  with 
toys  and  amusements,  so  trifling  that  any  but 
children  should  blush  to  regard  them. 

Again,  I  repeat  to  you  what  I  said  at  first,  effem- 
inacy enervates  and  contaminates  all  who  yield  to 
it.  It  takes  from  every  virtue,  and  from  every 
power  of  the  soul,  its  strength  and  marrow,  even 
in  the  opinion  of  the  world.  Its  victims  are  weak 
and  inefficient  in  everything.  God  rejects  them, 
the  w^orld  spurns  them.  Such  a  man  is  a  nonentity, 
he  is  as  if  he  were  not.  He  is  not  a  man.  Fear 
this  defect  which  will  be  the  source  of  many  others. 
Pray,  watch  ;  against  yourself.  Rouse  yourself  as 
you  would  rouse  a  man  m  a  lethargy.  Make  your 
friends  stimulate  you  and  awaken  you  from  sleep. 
Have  recourse  to  the  ordinances  of  religion.  Do 
not  forget  that,  in  this  instance,  the  rewards  of  the 
world  and  of  heaven  are  to  be  won  in  the  same 
way.  Both  of  these  kingdoms  are  to  be  taken  by 
violence. 


LETTER    XXX. 


ADVICE    RELATIVE    TO    EXTERNAL    CONDUCT    AND    TO    THE    MAN- 
AGEMENT   OF    OUJl    MINDS. 

I  AM  not  astonished  at  the  disgust  yon  feel  at 
seeing  so  much  that  is  opposed  to  the  will  of  God ; 
20 


230  LETTERS. 

it  is  the  natural  effect  of  your  change  of  heart. 
You  now  enjoy  a  certain  cahii  in  which  you  may 
be  entirely  occupied  with  what  is  so  interesting  to 
you,  and  be  freed  from  all  that  would  again  open 
the  wounds  of  your  heart.  Bat  this  is  not  the  will 
of  God.  Bear  this  cross  then  in  peace,  as  an  ex- 
piation of  your  offences,  and  wait  till  he  shall  lib- 
erate you  from  it.  He  will  do  it  in  his  own  time, 
and  not  in  yours. 

In  the  mean  time,  set  apart  certain  hours  to  think 
of  God  and  your  relation  to  him.  You  must  read, 
pray,  distrust  your  inclinations  and  habits ;  reniem- 
ber  that  you  carry  the  gift  of  God  in  an  earthen 
vessel ;  and  above  all,  let  your  soul  be  nourished 
with  the  love  of  God.  However  you  may  have 
departed  from  him,  do  not  fear  to  return  to  him 
with  an  humble  and  childlike  love.  Speak  to  him 
in  your  prayers  of  all  your  wretchedness,  of  all 
your  wants,  of  all  your  sufferings ;  speak  even 
of  the  disrelish  you  sometimes  feel  for  his  ser- 
vice. You  cannot  speak  too  freely  nor  with  too 
much  confidence.  He  loves  the  simple  and  the 
lowly ;  it  is  with  them  that  he  converses.  If  you 
are  of  this  number,  open  your  whole  heart,  and 
say  all  to  him.  After  you  have  thus  spoken  to 
God,  be  silent  and  listen  to  him.  Let  your  heart 
be  in  such  a  state  of  preparation,  tliat  his  spirit  may 
impress  upon  you  such  virtues  as  will  please  him. 
Let  all  within  you  listen  to  him.  This  silence  of 
all  outward  and  earthly  affections,  and  of  human 


LETTERS.  231 

thoughts  within  us,  is  essential,  if  we  would  hear 
this  voice,  that  calls  upon  us  to  deny  ourselves  and 
to  worship  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth. 

Yon  have  great  helps  in  the  knowledge  you  have 
acquired ;  you  have  read  many  good  books,  you 
are  acquainted  with  the  true  foundations  of  religion, 
and  with  the  weakness  of  all  that  is  opposed  to  it. 
But  all  these  means,  which  might  conduct  you  to 
God,  will  finally  arrest  your  progress,  if  you  value 
too  highly  your  own  wisdom. 

The  best  and  highest  use  of  your  mind,  is  to 
learn  to  distrust  yourself,  to  renounce  your  own 
will,  and  to  submit  to  the  will  of  God,  to  become 
as  a  little  child.  It  is  not  of  doing  difficult  things 
that  I  speak,  but  of  performing  the  most  common 
actions  with  your  heart  fixed  on  God,  and  as  one 
who  is  accomplishing  the  end  of  his  being.  You 
will  act  as  others  do,  except  that  you  will  never 
sin.  You  will  be  a  faithful  friend,  polite,  atten- 
tive, complaisant,  and  cheerful,  at  those  times  when 
it  is  becoming  in  a  true  Christian  to  be  so.  You 
will  be  moderate  at  table,  moderate  in  speaking, 
moderate  in  expense,  moderate  in  judging,  mod- 
erate in  your  diversions ;  temperate  even  in  your 
wisdom  and  foresight.  It  is  this  universal  sobriety 
in  the  use  of  the  best  things,  that  is  taught  us  by 
the  true  love  of  God.  We  are  neither  austere,  nor 
fretful,  nor  scrupulous,  but  have  within  ourselves 
a  principle  of  love  that  enlarges  the  heart,  and  sheds 
a  gentle  influence  upon  everything ;  that,  without 


LETTERS. 


constraint  or  effort,  inspires  a  delicate  apprehension, 
lest  we  should  displease  God  ;  and  that  arrests  us 
if  we  are  tempted  to  do  wrong. 

In  this  state  we  sutler,  as  other  people  do,  from 
fatigue,  embarrassments,  misfortunes,  bodily  infirm- 
ities, trials  from  ourselves,  and  trials  from  others, 
temptations,  disgusts,  and  sometimes  discourage- 
ments. But  if  our  crosses  are  the  same  with  those 
of  the  rest  of  the  world,  our  motives  for  supporting 
them  are  very  different.  We  have  learnt  from  Je- 
sus Christ  how  to  endure.  This  can  purify,  this 
can  detach  us  from  self,  and  renew  the  spirit  of 
our  minds.  We  see  God  in  every  thing,  but  we 
have  the  clearest  vision  of  him  in  suffering  and  in 
humiliation. 

Live,  my  friend,  without  any  exterior  change, 
but  what  may  be  necessary,  either  that  you  may 
avoid  evil,  or  may  be  protected  against  your  weak- 
ness, or  that  you  may  not  discredit  the  Gospel. 
Beyond  this,  let  not  your  left  hand  know  what 
your  right  hand  doth  ;  endeavor  to  be  cheerful  and 
tranquil. 

Regulate  your  expenses  and  yojn-  business.  Be 
honorable  and  modest,  simple  and  free.  Serve 
your  country  from  duty,  not  from  ambition  or  vain 
hopes.  This  will  be  serving  your  country,  your 
king,  and  the  King  of  kings,  before  whom  all  visi- 
ble glories  are  but  shadows. 

Let  your  conduct  be  single,  moderate,  and  with- 
out affectation  of  citlier  good  or  evil,  but  be  really 


LETTERS.  233 

firm  in  the  cause  of  virtue,  and  so  decided  that  no 
one  can  hope  to  lead  you  astray.  When  it  is  evi- 
dent that  you  are  devoted  in  good  faith  to  the 
cause  of  rehgion,  no  one  will  make  the  attempt  to 
turn  you  from  your  course. 

Put  your  trust,  not  in  your  resolutions,  or  your 
own  strength,  but  in  the  goodness  of  God,  who  has 
loved  you  when  you  thought  not  of  him,  and  be- 
fore you  could  love  him. 


LETTER   XXXI. 

CONSOLATION  UPON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  SON. 

Your  grief  is  present  to  me.  I  cannot  forget  the 
great  loss  you  have  met  with ;  but  God  has  taken 
what  was  his  own,  and  not  ours.  Who  shall  say 
to  him,  What  doest  thou  ?  You  are  far  from  saying 
it.  His  good  pleasure  is  the  supreme  reason.  Be- 
sides, amidst  the  most  severe  sorrows,  we  can  see 
his  paternal  hand,  and  a  secret  design  of  mercy. 

In  another  life  we  shall  see  and  understand  the 
wonders  of  his  goodness  that  have  escaped  us  in 
this,  and  we  shall  rejoice  at  what  has  made  us 
weep  on  earth.  Alas  !  in  our  present  darkness,  we 
cannot  see  either  our  true  good  or  evil.  If  God 
were  to  gratify  our  desires,  it  would  be  our  ruin. 
He  saves  us  by  breaking  the  ties  that  bind  us  to 
20* 


234  LETTERS. 

earth.  We  complain,  because  God  loves  us  better 
than  we  know  how  to  love  ourselves.  We  weep 
because  he  has  taken  those,  whom  we  love,  away 
from  temptation  and  sin.  We  would  possess  all 
that  delights  and  flatters  our  self-love,  though  it 
might  lead  us  to  forget  that  we  are  exiles^  in  a 
strange  land.  God  takes  the  poisonous  cup  from 
our  hands,  and  we  weep  as  a  child  weeps  when  its 
mother  takes  away  the  shining  weapon,  with  which 
it  would  pierce  its  own  breast. 

Your  son  succeeded  in  the  world  ;  it  is  this  suc- 
cess that  makes  you  weep,  but  it  was  this  that,  in 
the  counsels  of  the  Almighty,  perhaps,  was  the 
cause  of  his  removal,  in  mercy  both  to  him  and  to 
his  friends.  We  must  be  silent  and  adore.  Prayer 
alone  can  console  you  :  it  is  only  in  prayer  that  we 
are  truly  in  the  presence  of  God. 

As  soon  as  we  are  with  God  in  faith  and  in  love, 
we  are  in  j)rayer.  And  the  most  holy  occupation 
that  docs  not  bring  us  in  this  way  into  his  presence, 
may  be  a  study,  but  is  not  prayer.  God  is  our  only 
consoler.  Remain  in  silence  in  his  presence ;  he 
will  comfort  you.  We  shall  find  all  that  we  have 
lost  in  him.  Happy  they  who  desire  no  other  con- 
solation.    This  is  pure  and  inexhaustible. 


LETTERS.  235 


LETTER    XXXII. 

UPON    THE   NECESSITY    OF   JOINING   FREEDOM   TO    EXACTNESS. 

It  appears  to  me  that  great  freedom  and  great 
exactness  should  be  united.  Exactness  makes  us 
faithful,  and  freedom  makes  us  courageous.  If  you 
are  very  strict  without  being  free,  you  will  become 
servile  and  scrupulous.  If  you  are  free  without 
being  strict,  you  will  become  negligent  and  care- 
less. Those  who  have  little  experience  of  the 
ways  of  God,  think  they  caimot  unite  these  two 
virtues.  They  understand,  by  being  exact,  living 
in  constraint,  in  sorrow,  in  a  timid  and  scrupulous 
unquietness  that  destroys  the  repose  of  the  soul  ; 
that  finds  sin  in  every  thing,  and  is  so  narrow- 
minded  that  it  questions  about  the  merest  trifles, 
and  dares  hardly  to  breathe.  They  define  being 
free,  having  an  easy  conscience,  not  regarding  small 
things  ;  being  contented  with  avoiding  great  faults, 
and  not  considering  any  but  gross  crimes  as  faults  ; 
and  with  the  exception  of  these,  allowing  what- 
ever flatters  self-love,  and  any  license  to  the  pas- 
sions, that  does  not  produce  what  they  call  great  evil. 

It  was  not  thus  that  St.  Paul  understood  things, 
when  he  said  to  those  whom  he  endeavored  to 
make  Christians,  Be  free,  but  with  the  liberty  that 
Jesus  Christ  has  given  you  ;  be  free,  for  the  Saviour 
has  called  you  to  liberty,  but  let  not  this  liberty 
be  an  occasion  or  pretext  for  evil. 


236  LETTERS. 

It  appears  to  me  that  true  fidelity  consists  in 
obeying  God  in  everything,  and  following  the  light 
that  points  out  our  duty,  and  his  spirit  that  prompts 
us  to  do  it  ;  having  the  desire  to  please  him,  with- 
out debating  about  great  or  little  sins,  about  imper- 
fections or  unfaithfulness ;  for  though  there  may 
be  a  difference  in  fact,  to  the  soul  that  is  deter- 
mined to  do  all  his  Avill,  there  is  none.  It  is  in 
this  sense  that  the  Apostle  says,  The  law  is  not  for 
the  upright ;  the  law  constrains,  menaces,  if  I  may 
so  speak,  tyrannizes  over  us,  enslaves  -us.  But 
there  is  a  superior  law  that  raises  us  above  all  this, 
and  introduces  us  into  the  true  liberty  of  the  child- 
ren of  God.  It  is  this  ;  that  we  ever  desire  to  do 
all  that  we  can  to  please  our  Father  in  heaven, 
according  to  the  excellent  instruction  of  St.  Au- 
gustin.  Love  God,  and  then  do  all  you  wish. 

To  this  sincere  desire  to  do  the  will  of  God,  we 
must  add  a  cheerful  spirit,  that  is  not  overcome  when 
it  has  failed,  but  begins  again  and  again  to  do  better  ; 
hoping  always  to  the  very  end  to  be  able  to  do  it ; 
bearing  with  its  own  involuntary  weakness,  as  God 
bears  with  it ;  waiting  with  patience  for  the  mo- 
ment when  it  shall  be  delivered  from  it ;  going 
straight  on  in  singleness  of  heart,  according  to  the 
strength  that  it  can  command ;  losing  no  time  by 
looking  back,  nor  making  useless  reflections  upon 
its  falls,  which  can  only  embarrass  and  retard  its 
progress.  The  first  sight  of  our  little  failures  should 
humble  us ;  but  then  wo  must  press  on,  not  judg- 


LETTEUS.  237 

ing  ourselves  with  a  Jadaical  rigor,  not  regarding 
God  as  a  spy,  watching  for  our  least  offence,  or  as 
an  enemy  who  places  snares  in  our  path,  but  as  a 
father  wiio  loves  and  wishes  to  save  us  :  trusting 
in  his  goodness,  invoking  his  blessing,  and  doubting 
all  other  support ;  tliis  is  true  liberty. 

I  advise  you  to  aspire  after  it.  Fidelity  and 
freedom  should  go  hand  in  hand ;  but  I  fear  with 
you  there  is  more  danger  of  your  wanting  confi- 
dence in  Godj  and  openness  of  heart  to  him.  I  do 
not  hesitate  to  advise  you  to  yield  yourself  up  en- 
tirely to  that  grace,  with  which  he  calls  you  to 
himself. 


LETTER  XXXIII. 

UPON     SUBMISSION     TO     OCCASIONAL     INDIFFERENCE     AND     DIS- 
RELISH   FOR    RELIGION. 

I  AM  not  astonished  at  this  lukewarniness  in  you. 
We  cannot  always  be  in  raptures.  It  is  good  for 
us,  by  these  occasional  inequalities,  to  learn  that  it 
is  a  gift  of  God.  If  we  were  always  in  rapture, 
we  should  be  insensible  to  suffering,  and  to  our 
own  weakness ;  temptations  would  no  louger  be 
real  temptations  to  us.  ^Ve  must  be  tried  by  this 
rebellion  of  our  hearts,  that  thus  our  love  of  God 
may  be  purified.  We  are  never  more  faithful  than 
when  we  cling  to  our  Creator,  not  by  the  joy  of 


238  LETTERS. 

our  hearts,  but  in  the  entire  choice  and  acquiescence 
of  our  wills.  Outward  sufferings  Avould  not  be 
really  painful,  if  we  were  exempt  from  those  within. 

Submit  to  your  indifference,  then,  with  patience  ; 
it  will  be  more  useful  to  you,  than  enjoyment  that 
is  accompanied  with  confidence  in  yourself  This 
trial,  provided  your  will  is  faithful,  is  useful  ;  it 
may  be  a  great  good  to  you  ;  it  may  teach  you  hu- 
mility and  distrust  of  yourself;  it  may,  by  making 
you  conscious  of  your  weakness,  lead  you  to  put 
your  whole  trust  in  God.  This  sensible  pleasure 
that  you  desire,  is  neither  the  love  of  God  nor  the 
spirit  of  prayer. 

Enjoy  this  pleasure  when  God  bestows  it,  and 
when  he  does  not  grant  it,  still  love  him,  and  pray 
to  him,  as  if  you  felt  it.  God  would  prove  you  by 
the  privation  of  this  immediate  pleasure  in  religion, 
you  must  enter  into  his  designs  of  mercy  towards 
you,  and  humbly  submit  to  it.  It  will  serve  to 
destroy  your  self-love,  and  this  is  the  will  of  God. 

Your  sufierings  spring  altogether  from  yourself; 
they  are  your  own  creation.  It  is  a  sensitiveness 
of  self-love,  that  you  cherish  in  the  bottom  of  your 
heart ;  instead  of  performing  your  duties  and  help- 
ing others  to  support  their  burdens,  and  consoling 
those  whom  God  has  committed  to  your  charge? 
you  are  ever  recurring  to  self,  and  thinking  of  your 
own  discouragements. 

Hope  in  God  ;  he  will  support  you  and  enable 
you  to  be  useful  to  others,  if  you  trust  in  him  and 
not  neglect  your  duty. 


LETTERS.  239 


LETTER   XXXIV. 

UPON    TURNING    THE    EXPERIENCE    OF    OUR    OWN    WEAKNESS    TO 
ADVANTAGE. 

I  WAS  quite  grieved  yesterday  to  see  your  mind 
so  much  disordered.  It  appears  to  me,  that  there 
are  two  things  you  ought  to  do.  One  is,  never 
voluntarily  to  yield  to  your  self-love  ;  the  other, 
never  to  be  discouraged  at  discovering  in  your 
heart  these  unreasonable  discontents.  Would  you 
do  well  ?  Pray  God  to  make  you  patient  with 
others  and  with  yourself. 

If  you  had  only  the  defects  of  others  to  bear 
with,  if  you  found  weakness  only  in  them,  you 
would  be  strongly  tempted  to  think  yourself  supe- 
rior to  your  neighbor.  God  compels  yon,  by  a 
continual  experience  of  your  own  defects,  to  ac- 
knowledge how  just  it  is  that  you  should  bear  with 
gentleness  the  faults  of  others. 

Turn  these  weaknesses  to  your  advantage,  by 
submitting  to  them,  and  ingenuously  confessing 
them,  and  accustoming  yourself  not  to  depend  upon 
your  own  strength.  The  spirit  of  God  will  aid 
you  in  the  correction  of  your  faults.  Be  patient 
with  yourself,  be  humble,  resign  yourself  to  your 
own  imperfections,  not  neglecting  to  cure  them,  but 
drawing  from  them  a  lesson  of  self-distrust,  as  we 
draw  the  most  powerful  remedies  even  from  poisons. 


240  LETTERS. 

God  makes  you  feel  your  weaknesses,  that  you  may 
put  your  trust  iu  him.  He  will  gradually  deliver 
you  from  them.  Happy  indeed  will  be  this  de- 
liverance ! 


LETTER   XXXV. 


UPON    THE    CAUSES    OF    TRUE    DISCRETION,    AND     THE     CONTRARY 
DEFECTS. 

With  regard  to  discretion,  I  do  not  wish  you  to 
labor  to  acquire  it  by  continual  efforts  and  reflec- 
tions upon  your  own  conduct ;  this  would  produce 
too  much  constraint ;  it  is  better  to  be  silent,  and 
find  discretion  in  simplicity.  We  ought  not,  how- 
ever, to  be  so  silent,  as  to  be  deficient  in  frankness 
and  complaisance  in  our  moments  of  relaxation  and 
amusement ;  but  then  we  may  speak  of  indifferent 
things,  and  suppress  whatever  may  do  harm. 

In  our  recreations,  we  ought  to  have  a  sort  of 
joyousness,  that  will  induce  us  to  please  others,  and 
be  pleased  with  trifles.  You  will  become  prudent, 
when  you  yield  yourself  to  the  spirit  of  God.  He 
is  the  source  of  true  prudence  ;  ours  gives  us  only 
a  false  dignity,  a  dazzling  appearance,  a  factitious 
power.  When  we  arc  truly  simple,  and  humble, 
and  stripped  of  our  own  wisdom,  we  are  clothed 
with  that  of  God.  which  cannot  do  wrong. 

It  is  not  the  childlike  simplicity  of  the  Christian 


LETTERS.  241 

which  produces  our  daily  indiscretions  ;  on  the 
contrary,  we  commit  more  faults,  because  we  are 
thinking  so  much  of  our  own  wisdom,  and  are 
afraid  to  give  ourselves  up  to  the  guidance  of  the 
spirit  of  God.  This  spirit  would  lead  us  to  speak 
or  be  silent,  according  to  the  call  of  the  moment, 
without  making  any  unquiet  reflections  upon  our- 
selves, or  having  that  great  desire  to  succeed,  that 
spoils  the  best  things. 


LETTER   XXXVI. 

UPON    THE    ARTIFICES    OF    A    REFINED    SELF-LOVE, 

I  COMMIT  you  to  God,  and  I  wish  that  you  would 
commit  yourself  to  him.  You  hope  for  repose  else- 
where than  in  God.  You  shut  your  heart  to  him, 
and  you  try  to  repulse  his  merciful  hand.  "  Who 
is  it  that  has  resisted  God,  and  been  at  peace  ? " 
Return  to  him ;  give  yourself  up  to  him ;  hasten 
to  him.  Every  moment  of  delay  is  a  new  infidel- 
ity. My  heart  is  stricken  for  you  ;  I  hoped  to  find 
real  consolation  in  you. 

Oh  !  my  dear  daughter,  be  subdued  by  his  spirit. 
Allow  me  to  place  before  you,  what  it  seems  to 
me  it  is  his  will  that  I  should  present  to  your  view. 
From  your  earliest  infancy  you  have  unconsciously 
cherished  in  your  heart  an  immoderate  self-love 
under  the  disguise  of  delicacy,  and  a  taste  for  ro- 
21 


242  LETTERS. 

mance,  of  which  no  one  has  shown  you  the  illu- 
sion. You  display  it  in  the  world,  and  you  mani- 
fest it  in  your  most  pious  actions. 

I  perceive  in  you  always  a  taste  for  what  you 
call  esprit,  for  what  you  think  graceful,  and  for  lit- 
tle refinements,  that  alarms  me.  This  habit  will 
make  you  find  annoyances  in  every  situation. 
With  a  mind  really  upright  and  powerful,  this  will 
render  you  inferior  to  many  who  have  less  mind 
than  yourself.  You  give  good  advice  to  others, 
but  you  are  overcome  by  the  veriest  trifle  yourself 
Everything  troubles  you.  You  are  in  continual 
fear  of  committing  a  fault,  or  you  are  vexed  that 
you  have  been  guilty  of  one.  You  magnify  faults 
by  your  lively  imagination,  and  there  is  always 
some  nothing  that  reduces  you  to  despair.  In  one 
person  you  see  nothing  but  defects,  while  in  another 
you  imagine  perfections  of  which  they  have  not 
even  the  shadow.  Your  refinement  and  generosity 
on  one  side,  and  your  jealousies  and  distrusts  on 
the  other,  are  without  measure  or  reason. 

You  are  willing  to  give  yourself  up  to  others, 
but  this  makes  you  an  idol  to  yourself  and  to  them. 
Here  is  the  origin  of  this  refined  idolatry  of  self, 
that  God  would  overthrow  in  your  heart.  The 
operation  is  violent,  but  necessary.  Go  to  the  end 
of  the  world  for  consolation  to  your  self-love,  and 
you  will  only  find  the  disease  increase.  You  must 
either  oflcr  it  up  as  a  sacrifice  to  God,  or  you  must 
be  continually  supplying  it  with  new  aliment.     If 


LETTERS.  243 

you  had  no  one  to  minister  to  your  self-love,  you 
would  seek,  under  some  pretext  or  other,  for  some 
one  who  would,  and  you  would  at  last  descend  to  the 
meanest  and  vilest  subjects  to  gratify  its  cravings. 
There  is  only  one  remedy  for  you,  and  it  is  the 
very  one  from  which  you  fly.  The  sufferings  that 
you  complain  of  spring  from  yourself.  You  re- 
pulse the  hand  of  God ;  you  listen  only  to  your 
self-love  ;  you  bear  this  venom  in  your  heart ;  go 
where  you  will,  you  cannot  escape  God's  displeasure. 

Yield  yourself  up  to  him,  learn  to  see  yourself 
as  you  are,  vain  and  ambitious  of  the  admiration 
of  others ;  seeking  to  become  their  idol  to  gratify 
your  own  idolatry  of  self;  jealous  and  suspicious 
beyond  measure,  and  fast  sinking  into  an  abyss. 
You  must  make  yourself  familiar  with  these  dread- 
ful thoughts :  it  is  only  in  this  way  that  you  can 
dissolve  the  charm  that  enslaves  you.  You  may 
drive  away  thought  for  a  time ;  you  may  cherish  a 
vain  and  deceitful  strength,  such  as  a  fever  gives 
to  a  sick  man,  but  it  is  still  delirium. 

There  is  no  peace  except  in  the  destruction  of 
our  self-love.  You  may  make  some  convulsive 
movements  of  strength  and  gayety,  but  it  is  agony 
that  prompts  them.  If  you  would  make  the  same 
effort  for  the  peace  of  God,  as  you  make  against  it, 
how  unspeakable  would  be  your  happiness.  I  will 
pray  God  to  give  you  strength  to  subdue  yourself; 
I  will  pray  him  to  take  pity  upon  your  weakness, 
and  to  do  you  good  in  spite  of  your  resistance  to 
him.     For  myself,  I  will  not  forsake  you. 


244  LETTERS. 


LETTER  XXXVII. 

WE    MUST   NOT    BE   DISCOURAGED   AT    THE    IMPERFECTIONS   OF 
OUR    FELLOW    CREATURES. 

I  AM  very  sorry  for  the  imperfections  you  find 
in  human  beings  ;  but  we  must  learn  to  expect  but 
little  from  them ;  this  is  the  only  security  against 
disappointment.  We  must  receive  from  them  what 
they  are  able  to  give  us,  as  from  trees  the  fruits  that 
they  yield.  God  bears  with  imperfect  beings,  even 
when  they  resist  his  goodness.  We  ought  to  imi- 
tate this  merciful  patience  and  endurance.  It  is 
only  imperfection  that  complains  of  what  is  imper- 
fect. The  more  perfect  we  are,  the  more  gentle 
and  quiet  we  become  towards  the  defects  of  others. 

Do  not  attend  to  those,  who  under  the  dominion 
of  prejudice,  erect  themselves  into  a  tribunal  of 
justice.  If  anything  can  cure  them,  it  is  to  leave 
them  to  themselves,  and  to  go  on  in  your  own  path, 
with  the  simplicity  and  meekness  of  a  child. 


LETTER   XXXVin. 


OUR    EFFORTS   FOR    OURSELVES   SHOULD   BE    WITHIN,    AND   NOT 
IN    EXTERNALS. 

You  arc  virtuous.     You  wish  to  be  still  more 
so,  and  you  expend  much  effort  on  the  details. 


LETTERS.  245 

But  I  fear  you  attend  a  little  too  much  to  exter- 
nals. Think  less  of  outward  things,  and  more  of 
those  within.  Be  willing  to  sacrifice  to  God  the 
most  powerful  affections  ]  your  natural  haughtiness, 
your  worldly  wisdom,  your  taste  for  show  in  your 
house  ;  your  fear  of  losing  the  consideration  of  the 
world  ;  your  severity  against  what  is  irregular. 

Your  temper  is  what  I  am  least  concerned 
about.  You  are  aware  of  it,  you  fear  it.  Notwith- 
standing your  resolutions,  it  overcomes  you,  and 
this  teaches  you  humility,  and  will  help  you  to 
correct  more  dangerous  faults, 
■  Place  your  greatest  dependence  upon  prayer ; 
merely  human  strength  and  attention  to  precise 
forms  will  never  cure  you.  But  accustom  your- 
self, from  a'  consideration  of  your  own  incurable 
weaknesses,  to  view  those  of  others  "v^ith  charity 
and  compassion.  Prayer  will  soften  your  heart, 
and  render  you  gentle,  docile,  accessible,  and  ac- 
commodating. Could  you  bear  that  God  should  be 
as  strict  with  you  as  you  are  with  your  neighbor  ? 

We  are  very  severe  about  externals,  and  do  not 
look  within.  While  we  are  scruimlous  about  a 
superficial  display  of  virtue,  we  do  not  regard  the 
coldness  of  our  secret  hearts  towards  God.  We 
fear  him  more  than  we  love  him.  We  would  pay 
our  duty  to  him  with  actions,  and  think  we  have 
settled  our  account  with  him,  instead  of  giving  him, 
without  any  calculation,  all  our  love.  If  we  looked 
carefully  into  ourselves,  we  should  find  some  secret 
21* 


246  LETTEKS. 

place  where  we  hide  what  we  think  we  are  not 
obliged  to  sacrifice  to  God.  We  try  not  to  see  it, 
lest  we  should  reproach  ourselves  for  retaining  it. 
We  guard  it  as  we  would  the  apple  of  the  eye.  If 
any  one  should  force  this  entrenchment,  he  would 
touch  us  to  the  quick,  and  we  should  be  inexhausti- 
ble in  reasons  to  justify  our  attachment.  The 
more  we  dread  to  renounce  it,  the  more  reason 
there  is  for  believing  that  this  is  our  duty.  Our 
thoughts  hover  around  ourselves,  and  we  cannot 
forget  ourselves  in  God.  Whence  comes  it  that 
the  vessel  does  not  sail  ?  Is  it  that  there  is  no 
wind  ?  No,  the  breath  of  heaven  never  fails,  but 
the  vessel  is  held  fast  by  anchors  that  we  do  not 
perceive ;  they  are  at  the  bottom  of  the  deep. 

The  fault  is  our  own,  and  not  our  Creator's. 
We  have  only  to  seek  for  them,  and  we  shall  find 
these  hidden  chains  that  bind  us  and  arrest  our 
progress  ;  and  there,  where  we  the  least  suspect,  is 
the  place  where  we  should  feel  the  most  distrust. 

Let  us  make  no  bargain  with  God,  as  if  we  feared 
our  service  to  him  should  cost  us  too  much.  Do 
not  let  us  be  satisfied  with  prayer,  morning  and 
evening,  but  let  the  whole  day  be  one  continual 
prayer. 


LETTERS.  247 


LETTER   XXXIX. 

UPON    THE   DEATH    OF   THE    ABBE    DE    LANGERON,    HIS    EARLIEST 

AND     MOST     FAITHFUL    FRIEND. 

I  HAVE  not  the  strength  that  you  impute  to  me. 
I  have  felt  my  irreparable  loss  with  a  despondency, 
that  proves  that  my  heart  is  very  weak.  Now  I  am 
more  calm,  and  all  that  remains  is  a  sort  of  bitter- 
ness and  languor  of  soul.  But  this  humbles  me  as 
much  as  my  more  violent  grief.  All  that  I  have  felt 
in  both  these  states,  was  self-love,  I  acknowledge 
that  I  have  wept  for  myself,  in  mourning  for  a 
friend  who  made  the  delight  of  my  life,  and  whose 
loss  I  feel  continually.  I  find  an  elevation  in  the 
lassitude  of  grief,  and  my  imagination,  that  was 
excited  by  a  blow  so  unexpected,  has  become  ac- 
customed to  the  thought,  and  is  now  calm. 

But,  alas !  everything  is  vain,  except  an  entire 
yielding  up  of  our  hearts  to  the  spirit  of  God.  As 
for  our  friend,  his  death  was  so  calm  and  peaceful, 
that  it  would  have  made  you  happy  to  witness  it. 
Even  when  he  was  delirious,  his  thoughts  were  all 
on  God.  I  never  witnessed  anything  more  edify- 
ing or  lovely.  I  relate  this  to  you,  because  I  ought 
not  to  speak  of  my  great  suffering,  without  also 
acknowledging  this  joy  of  faith  of  which  St.  Au- 
gustin  speaks,  and  which  God  has  granted  me  upon 
this  occasion.     He  has  done  his  will,  he  has  pre- 


248  LETTERS. 

ferred  the  happiness  of  my  friend  to  my  comfo  rt. 
I  should  be  wanting  in  my  love  to  God,  and  to  my 
friend,  if  I  did  not  acquiesce  in  his  will. 

In  my  deepest  grief  I  have  offered  him,  whom  I 
so  dreaded  to  lose,  to  God.  I  cannot  help  being 
touched  at  the  tenderness  with  which  you  feel  for 
me.  I  pray  that  He  whose  love  inspires  you,  may 
reward  you  a  hundred  fold. 


LETTER    XL. 

TO    THE    DUKE    OF    BURGUNDT. 

THAT    THE    LOVE    OF    GOD    OUGHT    TO    BE    OUR    PRINCIPLE    OF    AC- 
TION,   OUR    END^   AND    OUR    RULE    IN    EVERYTHING. 

The  true  way  to  love  our  neighbor,  is  found  in 
the  love  of  God.  We  must  love  other  beings  in 
him  and  for  him.  Mankind  do  not  understand 
the  love  of  God ;  therefore  they  fear  it,  and  sep- 
arate themselves  from  it.  It  is  from  this  fear  that 
they  cannot  realize  this  filial  and  intimate  com- 
munion of  children  with  a  beneficent  parent.  They 
tliink  only  of  a  powerful  and  severe  master.  They 
are  ever  constrained  and  troubled  in  their  intercourse 
with  him.  They  perform  good  actions  with  un- 
willingness, that  they  may  avoid  punishment ;  they 
would  do  evil  if  they  dared,  and  if  they  could  hope 
to  do  it  with  impunity.     The  love  of  God  is  an 


LETTERS.  249 

oppressive  debt,  that  they  think  they  must  pay ; 
they  try  to  ehide  it  by  the  perform  u;ce  of  certain 
ceremonies  and  an  external  homage,  which  they 
would  substitute  for  a  sincere  and  practical  love  of 
God.  They  practise  arts  with  their  Creator,  in 
hopes  to  escape  by  giving  the  least  they  possibly  can 
to  Him.  Oh  !  if  men  did  but  know  what  the  love 
of  God  is,  they  Avould  not  desire  any  other  felicity. 

The  love  of  God  demands  of  us  only  innocent 
and  right  conduct.  It  bids  us  do  for  his  sake  what 
reason  dictates  to  be  done.  It  calls  upon  us  to  do 
from  love  for  Him,  what  men  of  the  world  do  from 
a  sense  of  honor,  or  from  self-love.  It  forbids 
nothing  that  the  right  exercise  of  reason  does  not 
forbid.  Let  us  place  everything  in  the  order  in 
which  God  has  established  it  in  the  world.  Let 
us  do  the  same  right  things,  but  let  us  do  them  for 
the  sake  of  Him  who  created  us,  and  to  whom  we 
owe  everything. 

This  love  of  God  does  not  demand  of  Christians 
those  austerities  practised  by  hermits.  It  seldom 
requires  brilliant  and  heroic  actions,  or  the  renun- 
ciation of  any  rightful  possessions  ;  it  only  com- 
mands us  not  to  make  them  our  idols,  but  to  enjoy 
them  in  the  divine  order,  and  with  our  Iiearts  fixed 
on  the  G  iver.  The  love  of  God  does  not  increase  the 
nmnber  of  our  trials  ;  we  find  these  already  thickly 
scattered  over  every  condition  of  life.  They  spring 
from  the  infirmities  of  our  bodies,  and  from  our 
passions  J  they  arise  from  our  imperfectionSj  and 


250  LETTERS. 

from  those  of  others  with  whom  we  are  obliged  to 
hve.  It  is  not  the  love  of  God  that  causes  these 
sufterings  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  this  alone  that  can 
soften  them  by  the  consolations  it  yields.  It  di- 
minishes them,  for  it  moderates  our  ardent  passions 
and  unreasonable  sensibilities,  which  are  the  causes 
of  all  our  real  evils.  If  the  love  of  God  were  gen- 
uine in  our  hearts,  it  would  cure  our  griefs  and  fill 
us  with  a  peaceful  joy. 

Mankind  are  great  enemies  to  themselves,  in  re- 
sisting and  fearing  this  pure  sentiment.  It  renders 
all  other  precepts  light  and  easy.  What  we  do 
from  fear  is  always  wearisome,  hard,  painful,  op- 
pressive. But  all  that  we  do  from  love,  from  per- 
suasion, from  a  free  and  willing  mind,  however  it 
may  oppose  the  pleasures  of  sense,  becomes  agree- 
able to  us.  The  desire  of  pleasing  God  makes  us 
willing  to  suffer,  if  it  is  his  will  that  we  should. 
The  sorrow  in  which  we  acquiesce,  is  no  longer  a 
sorrow. 

The  love  of  God  never  disturbs  the  order  of 
things  that  he  has  established.  It  leaves  the  great 
in  their  grandeur,  and  makes  them  little,  only  in 
his  sight  who  has  made  them  great.  It  leaves  those 
whose  condition  is  low  in  their  lowliness,  and  makes 
them  contented  with  being  nothing,  except  in  his 
sight.  This  willingness  to  be  in  the  lowest  place, 
has  nothing  of  debasement  in  it ;  it  is  true  greatness. 

The  true  love  of  God  regulates  and  inspires  all 
our  attachments.     We  never  love  our  neighbor  so 


LETTERS.  251 

truly,  as  when  onr  love  for  him  is  prompted  by  the 
love  of  God.  All  other  foundations  for  our  affec- 
tions have  reference  to  self  It  is  ourselves  that 
we  love  in  our  friends,  and  this  is  an  imperfect 
love.     It  is  more  like  self-love  than  real  friendship. 

How,  then,  must  we  love  our  friends  ?  We  must 
love  them  in  the  way  that  God  has  ordained.  We 
must  love  God  in  them.  We  must  love  the  good 
things  with  which  God  has  endowed  them,  and  we 
must,  for  his  sake,  submit  to  the  privation  of  those 
things  which  he  has  denied  them.  When  we  love 
them  with  reference  to  self,  our  self-love  makes  us 
impatient,  sensitive,  and  jealous,  demanding  much, 
and  deserving  little  ;  ever  distrusting  ourselves  and 
our  friends.  It  soon  becomes  wearied  and  disgusted  ; 
it  very  soon  sees  the  termination  of  what  it  be- 
lieved was  inexhaustible  ;  it  meets  everywhere  with 
disappointment  ;  it  looks  for  what  is  perfect,  and 
finds  it  nowhere  ;  it  becomes  dissatisfied,  changes, 
and  has  no  repose  :  while  the  friendship,  that  is 
regulated  by  the  love  of  God,  is  patient  with  defects, 
and  does  not  insist  upon  finding  in  our  friends  what 
God  has  not  placed  there.  It  thinks  of  God  and  of 
what  he  has  given  ;  it  thinks  that  all  is  good,  pro- 
vided it  is  from  Him,  and  it  can  support  that  which 
God  suffers  to  be,  and  to  which  it  is  his  will  that 
we  should  submit,  by  conforming  ourselves  to  his 
designs. 

The  love  of  God  never  looks  for  perfection  in 
created  beings.     It  knows  that  it  dwells  with  him 


252  LETTERS. 

alone.  As  it  never  expects  perfection,  it  is  never 
disappointed.  It  loves  God  and  all  his  gifts  to 
every  living  thing,  according  to  their  respective 
value.  It  loves  less  what  is  less  excellent,  and 
more  what  is  nearer  to  perfection.  It  loves  all, 
for  there  is  no  one  that  is  not  endowed  w^ilh  some 
good  which  is  the  gift  of  God,  and  it  remembers 
that  the  vilest  may  become  good,  and  receive  that 
grace  which  they  now  want.  He  who  loves  God, 
loves  all  his  works  —  all  that  he  has  commanded 
us  to  love.  He  loves  more  those  whom  God  has 
pleased  to  render  more  dear  to  him.  He  sees  in 
an  earthly  parent  the  love  of  his  heavenly  Father. 
In  a  relative,  in  a  friend,  he  acknowledges  those 
tender  ties  that  God  has  ordained.  The  more 
strictly  these  bonds  are  in  the  order  of  his  provi- 
dence, the  more  the  love  of  God  sanctions  them, 
and  renders  them  strong  and  intimate. 

Can  we  love  God  without  loving  those  beings 
whom  he  has  commanded  us  to  love  ?  It  is  He 
that  inspires  this  love ;  it  is  his  will  that  we 
should  love  them;  shall  we  not  obey  Him? 

This  love  can  endure  all  things,  suffer  all  things, 
hope  all  things,  for  our  neighbor.  It  can  conquer 
all  difficnltics ;  it  flows  from  the  heart,  and  sheds 
a  charm  upon  the  manners.  It  is  melted  at  the 
sorrows  of  others,  and  thinks  nothing  of  its  own; 
it  gives  consolation  where  it  is  needed  ;  it  is  gen- 
tle ;  it  adapts  itself  to  otiicrs  ;  it  weeps  with  those 
who  wcc]),  it  rejoices  with  those  who  rejoice  ;  it  is 


LETTERS.  253 

all  things  to  all  men,  not  in  a  forced  appearance 
and  in  cold  demonstrations,  but  from  a  full  and 
overflowing  heart,  in  which  the  love  of  God  is  a 
living  spring  of  the  tenderest,  the  deepest,  and  the 
truest  feeling.  Nothing  is  so  sterile,  so  cold,  so 
senseless,  as  a  heart  that  loves  only  itself  in  all 
things ;  while  nothing  can  exceed  the  frankness, 
the  tenderness,  the  gentle  loveliness  of  a  heart, 
filled  and  animated  by  the  divine  love. 


LETTER    XLI. 

[FROM  THE   "LETTERS  ON   RELIGION."] 

THE    SOUL    OF    MAN    IS    IMMORTAL. 

This  question  is  not  a  difficult  one,  when  it  is 
reduced  to  its  just  limits.  It  is  true  that  the  soul 
of  man  is  not  a  being  by  itself,  possessing  a  neces- 
sary existence.  There  is  but  One  who  derives  his 
existence  solely  from  himself,  and  who  can  never 
lose  it,  and  who  imparts  it  to  others  according  to 
his  pleasure. 

God  need  not  exercise  a  direct  power  to  annihi- 
late the  soul  of  man.  He  would  only  have  to 
withdraw  that  which  has  continued  his  being  every 
moment  from  his  birth,  to  replunge  him  into  the 
nothing aess  whence  he  originally  drew  him  ;  as  a 
22 


254  LETTERS. 

man  would  merely  open  his  hand  to  let  a  stone 
fall  that  he  had  held  in  the  air. 

The  question,  that  may  reasonably  be  asked,  is 
not,  whether  the  soul  of  man  may  be  annihilated, 
if  it  were  the  will  of  God ;  it  is  manifest  that  it 
might  be  ;  but  what  is  his  will  with  regard  to  it, 
is  the  inquiry. 

Does,  then,  the  soul  contain  within  itself  the 
seeds  of  destruction,  which  must,  after  a  time, 
terminate  its  existence  ?  or,  can  we  prove,  philo- 
sophically, that  it  does  not  ?  The  following  is  a 
negative  proof. 

When  we  think  of  the  essential  distinctions  be- 
tween the  body  and  the  soul,  we  are  astonished  at 
their  union ;  and  it  is  only  by  the  operation  of  the 
power  of  God,  that  we  can  comprehend  how  they 
can  be  so  united  and  made  to  act  in  concert,  when 
composed  of  such  different  elements.  The  body 
does  not  think.  The  soul  is  indivisible,  has  no 
extent,  no  form,  is  invested  with  none  of  the  prop- 
erties of  the  body.  Ask  any  one  if  his  thoughts 
are  round  or  square,  white  or  yellow,  cold  or  hot, 
divisible  into  six  or  twelve  pieces ;  and  instead  of 
answering  you,  he  will  laugh  at  the  question.  Ask 
him  if  the  atoms,  of  which  his  body  is  composed, 
are  wise  or  foolish  ;  if  they  know  themselves,  if 
they  are  virtuous ;  whether  the  round  atoms  have 
more  sense  and  goodness  than  the  square  ;  he  would 
still  only  j-augh,  and  could  hardly  believe  you  were 
in  earnest. 


LETTERS.  255 

Go  a  little  further,  and  suppose  the  atoms  of 
whatever  form  you  please  ;  make  them  as  impalpa- 
ble as  possible,  and  ask  if  it  can  be,  that  a  moment 
will  come  when  these  atoms,  from  being  without 
any  consciousness,  will  begin  all  at  once  to  know 
themselves,  to  understand  all  that  is  around  them, 
and  to  say  to  themselves,  I  believe  this,  and  I  do 
not  believe  that ;  I  love  this  thing,  and  I  hate 
another.  The  person  of  whom  you  would  ask 
these  questions,  would  call  it  child's  play. 

The  absurdity  of  these  questions  proves,  that 
none  of  the  ideas  that  we  have  of  the  nature  of 
bodies,  enter  into  our  conceptions  of  mind ;  that 
we  do  not  connect  the  thinking  being  with  the 
body,  or  the  being  of  space.  As  the  distinction  is 
so  radical,  the  natures  of  these  two  beings  so  op- 
posed, it  is  not  astonishing  that  their  union  should 
be  dissolved  without  either  of  them  ceasing  to 
exist.  We  ought,  on  the  contrary,  to  be  surprised, 
that  two  natures  so  unlike  can  continue  their  ope- 
rations in  harmony  for  so  long  a  time.  What,  then, 
shall  we  conclude  ?  that  one  of  these  beings  shall 
be  annihilated  as  soon  as  their  unnatural  union 
shall  cease  ?  Suppose  two  bodies  of  exactly  the 
same  nature  ;  separate  them,  you  destroy  neither. 
As  the  one  is  not  the  other,  it  may  exist  or  be  an- 
nihilated without  reference  to  the  other.  Their 
separation  produces  their  mutual  independence. 
But  if  we  may  reason  thus  of  two  bodies,  really  of 
the  same  nature,  with  how  much  more  reason  may 


256 


LETTERS. 


we  use  this  argument  in  relation  to  the  soul  and 
the  body,  whose  union  seems  unnatural,  so  unlike 
are  they  in  everything.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
cessation  of  this  transient  union  of  these  two  na- 
tures, cannot  be  to  either  the  cause  of  its  destruc- 
tion; the  annihilation  of  one  would  not  be,  on  any 
ground,  the  cause  of  the  annihilation  of  the  other. 
A  being  that  has  not  been  the  cause  of  the  existence 
of  another,  cannot  be  the  cause  of  its  annihilation. 
It  then  is  clear  as  day,  that  the  disunion  of  the 
body  from  the  soul  cannot  cause  the  annihilation 
of  either,  and  that  even  the  destruction  of  the  body 
cannot  put  an  end  to  the  existence  of  the  soul. 

The  union  of  the  body  and  the  soul  consists  only 
in  a  mutual  concert  or  relationship  between  the 
thoughts  of  the  one  and  the  movements  of  the 
other ;  it  is  easy  to  see  what  the  cessation  of  their 
connexion  would  produce.  It  is  a  forced  union 
between  two  beings  entirely  dissimilar  and  inde- 
pendent. God  alone  could,  by  his  all-powerful 
will,  subject  two  beings  so  different  in  their  nature 
and  operations  to  this  mutual  dependence.  Let 
this  arbitrary  and  determined  will  of  God  cease  to 
act,  this  forced  union  would  immediately  terminate  ; 
just  as  stone  would  fall  to  the  ground  when  it  was 
no  longer  held  up  in  the  air.  Each  party  would 
recover  its  natural  independence  of  the  operations 
of  the  other.  In  this  case,  the  soul,  far  from  being 
annihilated  by  this  disunion,  which  only  restores  it 
to  its  original  state,  becomes  free  to  think  inde- 


LETTERS.  367 

pendently  of  the  body ;  just  as  I  am  free  and  at 
liberty  to  walk  alone,  and  according  to  my  inclina- 
tions, as  soon  as  they  have  set  me  free  from  another, 
to  whom  a  superior  power  has  bound  me. 

The  end  of  this  union  is  only  disencumbrance 
and  pure  liberty,  just  as  the  union  itself  was  only 
thraldom  and  subjection.  It  is  then  that  the  soul 
can  think  independently  of  all  the  movements  of 
the  body,  as  we,  of  the  Christian  faith,  suppose  that 
angels,  who  have  never  been  confined  to  bodies, 
think  in  heaven.  Why  then  should  we  fear  this 
disunion  which  can  alone  effect  the  entire  freedom 
of  the  thoughts  ? 

But  the  body  itself  is  not  annihilated,  not  one 
atom  of  it  perishes.  All  that  takes  place  in  what 
we  call  death,  is  a  simple  derangement  of  the  or- 
gans ;  its  most  minute  corpuscles  exhale,  the  whole 
machine  is  dissolved  and  decomposed.  In  what- 
ever spot  dissolution  may  take  place,  wherever  ac- 
cident may  carry  the  remains  of  the  body,  not  one 
particle  ever  ceases  to  exist.  Why  then  should  we 
fear  that  this  other  substance,  so  much  more  noble, 
this  thinking  being  that  we  call  the  soul,  should  be 
annihilated  ?  How  can  we  believe  that  the  body, 
that  cannot  annihilate  itself,  has  the  power  to  de- 
stroy the  soul  that  is  so  superior  to  it,  which  is  a 
stranger  to  it,  and  absolutely  independent  of  it  ? 
The  disunion  of  these  two  beings  cannot  produce 
the  destruction  of  either. 

We  readily  believe  that  no  particle  of  the  body 
22* 


258  LETTERS. 

is  lost  at  this  separation.  Why  are  we  so  eager  to 
find  reasons  for  believing  that  the  soul,  which  is 
incomparably  more  perfect,  is  annihilated  ?  It  is 
true  that  God  might  destroy  it,  if  he  pleased,  at 
any  time;  but  there  is  no  more  reason  for  believ- 
ing that  he  would  annihilate  it  at  the  moment  of 
its  disunion  with  the  body,  than  during  its  union. 
What  we  call  death  being  only  a  simple  derange- 
ment of  the  corpuscles  that  form  the  organs,  we 
have  no  right  to  say  that  this  occurs  in  the  soul, 
precisely  as  in  the  body.  The  soul,  which  is  a 
thinking  being,  has  none  of  the  properties  of  the 
body  ;  it  has  neither  different  parts,  nor  figure,  nor 
relative  proportions  and  movements,  nor  change  of 
situation.  Thus  no  derangement  like  that  of  the 
body  can  take  place. 

The  soul,  this  thinking  and  willing  self,  is  a 
simple  being,  one  by  itself  and  indivisible.  There 
never  are,  in  the  same  man,  two  selves,  nor  two 
halves  of  the  same  self  Objects  are  presented  by 
different  organs,  producing  different  sensations ; 
but  all  these  different  canals  pour  themselves  into 
a  common  centre,  where  they  all  unite.  It  is  this 
self,  which  is  so  truly  one,  that  by  it  alone  each 
man  has  a  true  identity,  and  is  not  many  instead 
of  one  man.  We  cannot  see  it,  nor  hear  it,  nor 
touch  it.  Wc  conceive  of  the  soul  from  its  power 
of  thought  and  will,  of  the  body  from  its  extent 
and  form.  As  soon  as  we  think  of  the  real  dis- 
tinction of  the  soul  from  the  body,  we  must  ac- 


LETTERS.  259 

knowledge  that  it  does  not  possess  either  divisibility, 
or  form,  or  arrangement.  The  body  that  has  or- 
gans may  lose  the  arrangement  of  its  parts,  and 
change  its  form,  and  be  decomposed,  but  the  soul 
cannot  lose  an  arrangement  of  parts  that  it  has 
never  possessed,  and  that  does  not  belong  to  it. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  soul,  being  created  only 
to  be  united  to  the  body,  is  so  connected  with  it, 
that  its  borrowed  existence  ceases  as  soon  as  its 
association  with  the  body  terminates.  But  it  is 
speaking  without  proof,  and  at  random,  to  say,  that 
the  soul  is  created  with  an  existence  limited  to  the 
time  of  its  connexion  with  the  body.  Whence  do 
they  draw  this  unreasonable  conclusion,  and  with 
what  right  do  they  take  it  for  granted  instead  of 
proving  it  ?  The  body  is  certainly  less  perfect  than 
the  soul,  as  it  is  more  perfect  to  think  than  not  to 
think  ;  we  see,  nevertheless,  that  the  existence  of 
the  body  is  not  confined  to  its  union  with  the  soul. 
After  death  has  interrupted  this  connexion,  the  -body 
still  exists  in  minute  particles.  We  observe  only 
two  things  ;  one  is,  that  the  body  crumbles  to  dust, 
and  is  decomposed  ;  this  cannot  happen  to  the  soul, 
for  it  is  simple,  indivisible,  and  without  arrange- 
ment of  parts  ;  the  other  is,  that  the  body  no  longer 
moves  in  dependence  upon  the  thoughts  of  the  soul. 
Ought  we  not  to  conclude  on  the  same  ground,  and 
with  more  reason,  that  the  soul  also  exists,  and  that 
it  then  begins  to  think,  independently  of  the  body  ? 
That  the  operation  follows  the  existence,  is  ac- 


260  LETTERS. 

knowledged  by  all  philosophers.  These  two  be- 
ings are  independent  of  each  other  as  much  in 
nature  as  in  operation ;  as  the  body  does  not  de- 
pend upon  the  soul  for  its  movements,  neither  does 
the  soul  require  the  assistance  of  the  body  for  its 
thoughts. 

It  was  only  from  circumstances,  that  these  two 
beings,  so  unlike  and  so  independent,  were  sub- 
jected to  acting  in  concert ;  the  termination  of  their 
transient  union  leaves  them  free  to  operate,  each 
one  according  to  its  own  nature,  that  has  no  mutual 
relation  to  the  other. 

In  fine,  this  becomes  the  question;  Whether  God, 
who  has  the  power  to  annihilate  the  soul  of  man, 
or  to  continue  its  existence  forever,  has  willed  its 
destruction  or  its  preservation  ?  There  seems  not 
the  least  reason  for  believing  that  He,  who  does  not 
annihilate  the  least  atom  in  the  universe,  wills  the 
annihilation  of  the  soul  ;  and  there  is  not  the  least 
appearance  that  such  is  its  fate  at  the  moment  when 
it  is  separated  from  the  body,  since  it  is  a  being 
entirely  distinct  and  independent.  This  separation 
being  only  the  end  of  a  subjection  to  a  certain 
concert  of  operations  with  the  body,  it  is  manifest 
that  it  is  the  deliverance  of  the  soul,  and  not  the 
cause  of  its  anniliilation. 

We  must  acknowledge,  however,  that  we  ought 
to  believe  in  this  annihilation,  so  extraordinary  and 
so  diflicult  to  comprehend,  if  God  himself  has  de- 
clared il  in  his  word.     What  depends  only  upon 


LETTERS.  261 

his  arbitrary  word,  can  only  be  revealed  to  us  by 
himself.  Those  who  will  believe  the  mortality  of 
the  soul  against  all  probability,  ought  to  prove  to 
us  that  God  has  spoken  to  us  to  assure  us  of  it.  It 
is  by  no  mcaus  necessary  for  us  to  prove  that  God 
does  not  will  this  annihilation  ;  we  are  satisfied 
with  the  supposition  that  the  soul  of  man,  which, 
next  to  God,  is  the  most  perfect  thing  that  we  have 
any  knowledge  of,  is  less  liable  to  lose  its  existence 
than  the  mean  and  imperfect  substances  that  are 
around  it ;  now  the  annihilation  of  the  least  atom 
is  without  example  in  the  universe  since  the  crea- 
tion. We  are  satisfied,  then,  with  the  supposition, 
that,  as  the  least  atom  is  not  lost,  so  the  soul  of 
man  is  not  liable  to  annihilation.  This  is  the  most 
reasonable  and  the  most  decided  judgment  from  the 
first  impression.  It  is  for  our  adversaries  to  dis- 
possess us  of  our  conviction,  by  clear  and  unques- 
tionable proofs.  These  they  can  obtain  only  by  a 
positive  declaration  from  God  himself 

We  produce  the  book  which  bears  every  mark 
of  a  divine  origin,  for  it  has  taught  us  to  know  and 
to  love  supremely  the  true  God.  It  is  this  book 
that  speaks  in  the  character  of  God,  when  it  says, 
"  I  am  that  I  am."  No  other  book  has  described 
the  Supreme  Being  in  a  manner  worthy  of  him. 
The  gods  of  Homer  subject  divinity  to  disgrace  and 
derision.  The  book  that  we  have  in  our  hands, 
after  having  shown  God  to  us  as  he  is,  teaches  us 
the  only  worship  that  is  worthy  of  him.     Its  ob- 


262 


LETTERS. 


ject  is  not  to  appeise  h'm  by  the  blood  of  victims, 
but  to  lead  us  to  love  him  supremely,  and  to  prefer 
his  will  to  our  own  :  to  have  this  love  of  God  enter 
into  all  our  virtues,  and  eradicate  every  vice. 

There  is  but  one  book  in  the  world  that  makes 
religion  consist  in  loving  God  more  than  ourselves, 
and  renouncing  self  for  him ;  all  others  that  repeat 
this  great  truth  are  borrowed  from  this.  All  truth 
is  taught  in  this  fundamental  truth.  The  book 
that  has  disclosed  to  us  the  nature  of  God,  and  the 
nature  of  man,  and  the  true  worship  of  the  heart, 
must  be  divine.  Where  is  there  another  religion 
in  which  this  is  the  great  truth  ?  Moreover,  this 
book,  so  divine  in  its  doctrine,  is  full  of  prophecies, 
whose  accomplishment  is  open  to  the  observation 
of  the  world;  as  the  reprobation  of  the  Jews,  and 
the  admission  of  idolatrous  nations  to  the  true  wor- 
ship through  the  Messiah.  Besides,  this  book  is 
sacred  as  a  record  of  miracles  performed  in  open 
day,  and  in  view  of  the  greatest  enemies  to  religion. 

In  fine,  this  book  has  done  all  that  it  says  it 
could  do  ;  it  has  changed  the  face  of  the  world  ;  it 
has  peopled  the  deserts  with  men,  who  have  been 
angels  in  mortal  bodies  ;  it  has  taught  and  cherished, 
even  in  the  midst  of  the  most  corrupt  and  impious 
society,  the  most  difficult  and  the  most  gentle  vir- 
tues ;  it  has  persuaded  the  idolater  of  self  to  count 
himself  as  nothing,  and  to  love  supremely  the  in- 
visible lic'iiig.  Such  a  book  ought  to  be  read  as  if 
it  descended  from  hcuveu  to  the  earth.     It  is  in  this 


LETTERS.  263 

book,  that  God  has  declared  to  ns  a  truth,  aheady 
so  rational,  so  probable  in  itself. 

The  same  almighty  and  good  Being,  who  alone 
could  deprive  us  of  life  eternal,  has  here  promised 
it  to  us ;  it  is  the  hope  of  this  life  without  end, 
that  has  taught  so  many  ma:tyrs  to  despise  the 
short  and  suffering  life  of  the  body.  Is  it  not 
reasonable  that  God,  who  proves  the  virtue  of  every 
man  in  this  short  life,  and  who  often  leaves  the 
impious  in  their  prosperous  course,  while  the  just 
live  and  die  amidst  suffering  and  obscurity,  should 
reserve  to  another  life  the  chastisement  of  the  one, 
and  the  reward  of  the  other  ?  This  is  what  the 
sacred  records  teach  us.  Wonderful  and  blessed 
conformity  between  the  word  of  God  and  the  truth 
that  we  bear  within  us!  All  harmcnize  ;  philoso- 
phy, the  supreme  authority  of  the  promises,  and 
this  deep  sentiment  of  truth  imprinted  upon  our 
hearts. 

Whence  is  it  that  men  are  so  incredulous  con- 
cerning the  blessed  truth  of  their  immortality  ? 
The  impious  declare  that  they  are  without  hope, 
and  that  they  are,  after  a  few  days,  to  be  swallowed 
up  forever  in  the  gulf  of  annihilation  ;  they  rejoice 
at  it,  they  triumph  at  their  approaching  extinction ; 
they,  who  love  themselves  so  madly,  seem  to  be 
enamored  with  this  horrible  doctrine  ;  they  court 
despair.  Others  tell  them  that  they  have  resource 
in  the  life  eternal,  but  they  are  angry  at  the  thought ; 
it  exasperates  them  ;    they  fear  being  convinced. 


264  LETTERS. 

They  exercise  all  their  ingenuity  in  cavilling  at 
these  powerful  proofs.  They  prefer  perishing  in 
the  indulgence  of  their  insensate  pride  and  brutal 
passions,  to  living  eternally  and  submitting  to  be 
virtuous.  O  monstrous  frenzy  !  wild,  absurd  self- 
love,  that  turns  against  itself  and  becomes  its  own 
enemy ! 


LETTER  XLII. 

UPON    THE    TRUE    WORSHIP    OF    GOD. 

It  appears  to  me  that  the  character  of  the  true 
worship  is  not  to  fear  God  as  we  fear  a  terrible  and 
powerful  man,  who  destroys  all  that  resist  him. 
The  Pagans  offered  incense  and  victims  to  certain 
malignant  and  fearful  divinities,  to  appease  their 
wrath.  This  is  not  my  idea  of  God.  He  is  infi- 
nitely just  and  almighty,  and  doubtless  he  is  to  be 
feared  ;  but  only  by  those  who  refuse  to  love  him  and 
make  themselves  acquainted  with  him.  The  best 
fear  we  can  have  of  God,  is  the  fear  lest  we  should 
not  please  him,  and  lest  we  should  not  do  his  will. 

The  fear  of  punishment  is  useful  to  men,  who 
have  wandered  from  the  right  i)ath  ;  it  may  re- 
strain from  crime,  but  it  is  only  useful  as  it  is  the 
means  of  leading  them  to  love  him.  There  is  not 
a  man  in  the  world,  who  desires  to  be  feared  rather 
than  loved  by  his  children.     When  we  perform 


LETTERS.  2G5 

good  actions  from  fear  alone,  we  perform  them 
merely  to  avoid  suffering ;  and  of  course,  if  we 
could  avoid  the  punishment,  and  dispense  with 
their  performance,  we  should  do  so. 

There  is  not  only  no  parent  who  would  be 
pleased  with  being  honored  in  this  way,  or  friend 
who  would  grant  the  name  of  friend  to  those  who 
were  bound  to  him  only  by  such  ties  ;  but  there  is 
not  even  a  master  who  would  love  or  reward  his 
domestics  or  accept  their  services,  if  he  saw  they 
were  bound  to  him  by  fear  alone,  and  not  by  any 
real  love.  With  how  much  more  reason  is  it  that 
God,  who  has  given  us  intelligence  and  affections, 
in  order  that  we  may  know  and  love  him,  cannot 
be  satisfied  with  a  servile  fear,  but  desires  our 
hearts,  and  that  our  love  should  return  to  the  foun- 
tain whence  it  first  flowed. 


LETTER   XLIII. 

UPON    THE    MEANS   BY    WHICH    MEN    MAY    BECOME    RELIGIOUS. 

We  are  too  much  impressed  with  the  great  dis- 
parity that  exists  between  the  grossness  of  the 
minds  of  most  men,  and  the  grandeur  of  those 
truths  which  must  be  understood  by  one  who 
would  become  a  Christian. 

What  is  there  to  which  sensual  and  evil  passions 
23 


266  LETTERS. 

have  not  enabled  the  weakest  and  least  cultivated 
men  to  attain  ?  What  is  there  that  the  vilest  men 
have  not  mvented  for  the  perfection  of  the  arts, 
when  avarice  has  excited  them  ?  What  means  will 
not  a  prisoner  invent  in  his  dungeon  to  escape  from 
it ;  to  obtain  news  of  his  friends,  to  give  them  in- 
telligence of  himself,  or  to  deceive  those  who  hold 
him  captive  ?  What  pains  would  not  a  man  take 
to  penetrate  the  cause  of  his  situation,  if  he  were 
to  find  himself  when  he  awoke  from  sleep  trans- 
ported into  a  desert  and  unknown  island?  What 
would  he  not  do  to  discover  how  he  had  been  re- 
moved during  his  sleep,  to  ascertain  whether  there 
were  any  vestiges  of  inhabitants  there,  to  procure 
subsistence,  to  clothe  and  shelter  his  body,  and  to 
find  means  of  returning  to  his  own  country  ? 

Such  are  the  natural  resources  of  the  human 
mind  among  the  least  cultivated  men.  The  will 
is  all  that  is  essential  to  enable  men  to  succeed  in 
whatever  is  not  absolutely  impossible. 

Love  truth  as  much  as  you  love  health,  vanity, 
freedom,  pleasure,  even  your  fancy,  and  you  will 
find  it.  Be  as  curious  to  know  Him  who  made 
you,  and  to  whom  you  owe  everything,  as  the 
lowest  minded  men  are  to  satisfy  their  earthly  de- 
sires, and  you  will  find  God  and  life  eternal. 

Let  men  act  in  this  world,  as  he  who  finds  him- 
self when  he  awakes  in  a  desert  and  unknown 
island.  TiCt  men,  instead  of  being  engrossed  with 
what  they  call  fortune,  diversions,  reputation,  poli- 


LETTERS.  267 

tics,  eloquence,  poetry,  be  occupied  with  answer- 
ing these  questions ;  "  Who  am  I?  Where  am  I  ? 
Whence  did  I  come  ?  By  whose  power  did  I  come 
hither  ?  Wliy  and  by  whom  am  I  created  ?  Whither 
am  I  to  go  ?  Who  are  these  beings  around  me  that 
resemble  me  ?     Whence  do  they  come  ?  " 

Why  will  not  men  take  as  much  pains  to  know 
themselves,  as  Anacharsis  the  Scythian  did  to  find 
the  truth  ?  as  the  Greeks  did,  who  went  into  Egypt, 
Asia,  and  even  India,  to  get  wisdom  ?  It  requires 
but  little  light  to  see  that  we  are  in  darkness,  but 
a  little  effort  to  become  acquainted  with  our  own 
weakness  :  to  be  a  true  philosopher  man  needs 
only  to  know  his  ignorance.  When  will  men  strive 
to  develop  the  great  mystery  of  their  own  exist- 
ence ?  The  mind  of  every  man  expands  by  use  ; 
it  becomes  elevated  and  enlarged  in  proportion  to 
the  exercise  of  his  will,  and  to  the  intellectual  ef- 
forts he  makes.  Let  the  soul  be  turned  as  strenu- 
ously towards  good,  as  it  usually  is  towards  evil, 
and  you  will  find  that  the  simple  love  of  goodness 
will  give  incredible  resources  to  the  spirit  in  the 
search  after  truth. 

If  men  loved  truth  better  than  themselves,  as  it 
ought  to  be  loved,  they  would  strive  for  it  as  earn- 
estly as  they  now  strive  after  the  illusions  that 
flatter  their  vanity.  Love,  with  little  intellect,  will 
perform  miracles.  It  is  not  important  that  uncul- 
tivated men  should  be  able  to  explain,  with  method 
and  precision,  how  they  are  persuaded  in  favor  of 


268  LETTERS. 

virtue  and  religion ;  it  is  enough  that  they  are  per- 
suaded by  correct  and  substantial  reasons,  though 
they  cannot  analyze  the  principles  on  which  their 
conviction  rests,  nor  refute  the  subtle  objections 
which  may  embarrass  them. 

Nothing  is  easier  than  to  confuse  a  man  of  good 
sense  with  regard  to  the  reality  of  his  own  body, 
although  it  is  still  impossible  for  him  to  doubt  of 
it  seriously.  Tell  him  that  the  time  which  he  calls 
awaking,  is  only  a  time  of  more  profound  sleep 
than  the  sleep  of  the  night ;  tell  him  that  he  will 
awake  perhaps  at  death  from  the  sleep  of  his  whole 
life,  which  is  only  a  dream,  just  as  he  thinks  he 
awakes  every  morning  from  the  dreams  of  the 
night ;  urge  him  to  show  you  any  difierence  that 
is  precise  and  decisive  between  the  illusion  of  a 
dream  of  the  night,  when  a  man  is  sure  he  is  what 
he  is  not,  and  the  illusion  of  the  dream  of  a  whole 
life  ;  —  you  put  it  out  of  his  power  to  answer  you  ; 
but  it  is  not  less  out  of  his  power  to  believe  you ; 
he  will  smile  at  your  ingenuity;  lie  feels,  though 
he  is  unable  to  demonstrate  it,  that  your  subtle 
reasons  have  only  darkened  a  clear  trutli,  instead 
of  throwing  light  upon  what  was  obscure. 

There  are  a  hundred  examples  of  truths  which 
men  cannot  doubt,  and  which  seem  to  escape  them 
as  soon  as  they  arc  pressed  to  answer  an  ingenious 
objection  to  them.  Truth  is  not  the  less  true,  and 
the  deep  conviction  which  all  men  have  of  it,  is 
not  less  a  real  and  invincible  belief,  although  no 


LETTERS. 


269 


one  has  tlie  power  to  explain  his  reasons  for  be- 
lieving. The  greatest  philosophers  are  persuaded 
of  a  great  number  of  truths,  which  they  can- 
not clearly  develope,  nor  refute  the  objections  to 
them. 

It  is  very  true,  as  some  author  of  our  time  has 
said,  "  men  have  not  sufficient  courage  to  follow 
their  own  reason  ;  "  and  I  am  well  persuaded  that 
no  man  without  the  grace  of  God,  will,  by  his  own 
natural  strength,  have  all  the  constancy,  all  the 
method,  all  the  moderation,  all  the  distrust  of  him- 
self, that  are  necessary  for  the  discovery  even  of 
those  truths  which  do  not  require  the  superior  light 
of  faith  ;  in  a  word,  that  natural  philosophy,  which 
follows,  without  prejudice,  or  impatience,  or  pride, 
the  deductions  of  purely  human  reason,  is  a  prodigy. 
I  trust  only  in  the  grace  of  God  to  direct  our  rea- 
son even  within  its  own  narrow  bounds  in  the  dis- 
covery of  religion  ;  but  I  believe  with  St.  Augus- 
tin,  that  God  endows  every  man  with  the  first  germ 
of  this  divine  power,  which  imperceptibly  mingles 
with  his  reason,  and  prepares  him  to  arrive  gradu- 
ally at  faith.  This  preparation  of  the  heart  is  at 
first  the  more  indistinct,  because  it  is  general  in  its 
effects  ;  it  is  a  confused  sentiment  of  insufficiency, 
a  desire  after  what  we  have  not,  a  wish  to  find 
without  ourselves  that  which  we  cannot  find  with- 
in, a  melancholy  consciousness  of  a  void  in  our 
hearts,  a  hunger  and  thirst  after  truth,  a  sincere 
disposition  to  readily  believe  ourselves  deceived, 
23* 


270  LETTERS. 

and  to  think  that  we  are  in  want  of  assistance  to 
save  us  from  error. 

This  is  the  secret  beginning  of  the  birth  of  the 
new  man  ;  the  first  springing  up  in  the  soul  of  that 
healing  and  free  grace,  which  gradually  dissipates 
all  darkness,  and  conquers  all  the  corrupt  passions 
of  man.  It  will  be  said  that  this  is  not  sufficient 
to  lead  to  the  belief  in  Jesus  Christ,  since  our  faith 
comes  by  our  senses,  and  we  should  not  have  heard 
of  the  truth,  if  the  evangelists  had  not  been  sent. 
But  I  maintain,  that  if  the  inward  dispositions  an- 
swer to  the  grace  bestowed,  God  will  finish  by  his 
providence  the  work  that  his  love  has  already  com- 
menced. He  will  doubtless  by  a  miracle  enlighten 
a  man,  and  lead  him  by  the  hand  to  the  gospel, 
sooner  than  he  will  let  him  be  deprived  of  a  light 
which  he  is  worthy  to  receive. 

A  man  who  loves  God  more  than  himself,  and 
who  forgets  himself  in  the  search  after  truth,  has 
already  found  it  in  his  own  heart.  The  religion 
of  Jesus  already  operates  within  him,  as  it  did  in 
the  hearts  of  just  men  under  the  ancient  law  ;  as  in 
the  descendants  of  Noah,  in  Job,  and  in  the  other 
worshippers  of  the  true  God.  St.  Augustin  was 
assured  that  Cornelius  had  received  the  Holy  Spirit 
l)cfore  he  was  baptized  ;  he  believed  that  God  never 
abandons  any  but  those  who  deserve  it,  that  he 
never  deprives  any  one  of  the  supreme  good  ;  he 
adds,  in  the  words  of  the  Apostle,  that  those  Gen- 
tiles, who  have  the  law  written  in  their  hearts, 
have  a  part  in  the  gospel.     You  ])crceivc  that  only 


LETTERS.  271 

those  infidels  are  culpable,  who  have  received, 
■uathoLit  profiting  by  it,  a  real  mercy,  an  offered 
grace  that  would  have  enabled  them  to  believe. 
It  will  be  imputed  to  no  one  to  have  sinned,  where 
he  had  not  the  power  to  know  his  duty. 

If  we  suppose  the  case  of  an  infidel,  who  faith- 
fully uses  the  light  of  his  reason,  and  that  first  germ 
of  the  grace  of  God  implanted  within  him,  to  seek 
for  truth  with  real  piety,  we  must  believe  that  God 
will  not  refuse  the  knowledge  of  himself  to  such 
a  man.  Rather  than  his  children  should  be  de- 
prived of  supreme  felicity,  which  he  has  freely 
promised  them,  God  would  enlighten  a  man  living 
in  an  unknown  forest,  or  in  a  desert  islaiid,  either 
by  an  interior  and  extraordinary  revelation,  or  by 
sending  to  him  teachers  of  his  word. 

We  need  only  bring  to  our  minds  the  idea  of 
God,  to  be  assured  that  he  never  will  desert  us. 
Shall  we  fear  that  the  supreme  Love  will  cease  to 
love  ?  Can  we  believe  that  the  infinite  Good,  ever 
pouring  himself  forth  on  all,  Avill  deny  himself  to 
any  who  are  not  unworthy  of  him  ?  St.  Augustin, 
on  the  contrary  says,  that  God  does  everything  to 
save  us,  except  depriving  us  of  our  free  will. 

Whom  then  shall  we  accuse  ?  God,  who  can- 
not, without  departing  from  himself,  cease  to  be 
infinitely  good,  compassionate,  beneficent,  watch- 
ful, full  of  tenderness  towards  all  his  children  ?  or 
man,  who,  according  to  his  own  confession,  is  vain, 
stubborn,  presumptuous,  ungrateful,  idolatrous  of 
himself,  and  averse  to  the  government  of  his  Crea- 


272  LETTERS. 

tor?  Do  not  let  ns  blaspheme  against  God,  that 
we  may  excuse  our  own  demerits ;  pride  and  sel- 
fishness are  the  causes  of  our  errors. 

God  would  have  us  love  him  supremely  ;  we 
must  overthrow  and  destroy  this  idol,  self,  Jesus 
Christ  has  exterminated  visible  idolatry ;  but  the 
idolatry  within  still  prevails  everywhere.  Our 
reason,  divested  of  passion,  pride,  and  evil  desires, 
would  naturally  arrive  at  this  truth,  that  we  have 
not  made  ourselves,  and  that  we  owe  this  self, 
which  is  so  dear  to  us,  to  him  who  gave  it. 

Let  us  add  to  these  reflections  the  true  idea  of 
the  Christian  religion.  In  what  does  it  consist? 
In  the  love  of  God.  He  wills  that  we  sliould  wor- 
ship him  alone  in  our  hearts.  This  is  the  true 
worship  which  the  Pagans  never  understood,  and 
which  the  Jews  only  comprehended  imperfectly, 
although  the  foundation  of  it  was  laid  in  their  own 
law.  According  to  St,  Augustin,  men  understand 
the  whole  sense  of  the  scriptures  as  soon  as  they 
know  what  it  is  to  love  God ;  in  truth,  this  com- 
mand includes  all  others.  The  Jewish  religion 
was  only  the  imperfect  beginning  of  that  adoration 
in  spirit  and  in  truth,  which  is  the  only  worship 
worthy  of  the  Supreme  Being.  Divest  that  reli- 
gion of  temporal  blessings,  of  mysterious  emblems, 
of  ceremonies  established  in  order  to  preserve  the 
people  from  idolatry,  in  fine,  of  its  legal  policy,  and 
the  love  of  God  alone  remains ;  afterwards  unfold 
and  perfect  this  love,  and  you  have  Christianity,  of 
which  Judaism  was  but  the  germ  and  preparation. 


REFLECTIONS 


FOR    EVERY     DAY    IN    THE    MONTH. 


FIRST   DAY. 

ON    THE    LITTLE    FAITH    THAT    THERE     IS    IN    THE    WORLD. 

"When  the  Son  of  Man  coraeth,  shall  he  find  faith  on  the  earth?" 

Luke  xviii.  8. 

If  he  Avrere  to  come  at  this  moment,  would  he 
find  it  in  us  ?  Where  is  our  faith  ?  What  are  the 
proofs  of  it  ?  Do  we  beheve  that  this  life  is  only 
a  short  passage  to  a  better  ?  Do  we  beheve  that 
we  must  suffer  with  Jesus  before  we  can  reign 
with  him  ?  Do  we  look  upon  the  world  as  a  vain 
show,  and  death  as  the  entrance  into  true  happi- 
ness ?  Do  we  live  by  faith  ?  Does  it  animate  us  ? 
Do  we  enjoy  the  eternal  trutlis  that  it  presents  to 
us  ?  Do  we  feed  our  souls  with  them,  as  we 
nourish  our  bodies  with  healthful  aliment?  Do 
we  acustom  ourselves  to  view  everything  with  the 
eye  of  faith  ?  Alas  !  instead  of  living  by  faith,  we 
extinguish  it  in  our  souls.  How  can  we  truly 
believe  what  we  profess  to  believe,  and  act  as  we 
act? 


274      -  REFLECTIONS. 

May  we  not  fear,  lest  the  kingdom  of  heaven  be 
taken  from  us,  and  given  to  others  who  will  bring 
forth  more  fruit  ?  This  kingdom  of  heaven  is  faith, 
when  it  dwells  and  reigns  in  the  heart.  Blessed 
are  the  eyes  that  see  this  kingdom  ;  flesh  and  blood 
have  not  seen  it ;  earthly  wisdom  is  blind  to  it. 
To  realize  its  glories,  we  must  be  born  again  ;  and 
to  do  this  we  must  die  to  self. 


SECOND   DAY. 

ON    THE    ONLY    ROAD    TO    HEAVEN. 
"  Stiive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate."     Luke  xiii.  24. 

The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  entered  by  violence  ; 
by  the  strait  gate,  by  self-denial,  and  humiliation. 
The  broad  gate,  through  which  we  see  the  multi- 
tude pass,  and  which  is  ever  open,  leads  to  perdi- 
tion ;  let  us  beware  of  entering  it.  We  must  seek 
the  footsteps  of  the  saints,  the  path  worn  by  peni- 
tents who  have  climbed  the  precipice,  and  gained 
a  sure  footing  upon  the  heights,  by  the  sweat  of 
their  brows ;  and  even  then  at  the  very  last  step, 
it  may  require  a  violent  effort  to  enter  in  at  the 
strait  gate  of  eternity. 

It  is  ordained  by  God  that  we  be  conformed  to 
the  image  of  liis  Son,  that  we  may  be  crucified  to 


REFLECTIONS.  275 

self,  that  we  renounce  sensual  pleasures,  and  sub- 
mit, like  him,  to  suffering.  But  how  great  is  our 
blindness!  we  would  quit  the  cross  that  unites  us 
to  our  Master.  Let  us  live,  and  let  us  die,  with 
him  who  came  to  show  us  the  true  way  to  heaven. 
We  must  take  up  the  cross,  if  we  would  follow 
him.  We  suffer  in  the  narrow  way,  but  we  hope. 
We  suffer,  but  we  behold  the  heavens  opening. 
We  suffer,  but  we  are  willing  to  suffer.  We  love 
God,  and  his  love  will  be  our  recompense. 


THIRD    DAY. 

ON    TRUE     DEVOTION. 
"  Wlio  deceiveth  his  own  heart,  this  man's  religion  is  vain."     James  i.  26. 

What  mistakes  are  made  about  devotion  !  One 
man  makes  it  consist  in  a  multitude  of  prayers, 
another  in  a  great  many  outward  acts,  tending  to 
the  glory  of  God  or  the  good  of  his  neighbor. 
Some  think  it  a  continual  desire  of  salvation  ;  others 
an  austere  life.  But  they  are  all  deceived,  if  they 
think  they  have  arrived  at  the  true  foundation  and 
essential  principle  of  piety. 

That  piety  which  is  sanctified,  and  which  is  a 
true  devotion  to  God,  consists  in  doing  all  his  will 
precisely  at  the  time,  in  the  situation,  and  under 
the    circumstances,    in    which  he   has  placed  us. 


276  REFLECTIONS. 

Perform  as  many  brilliant  works  as  you  may,  you 
will  be  recompensed  only  for  having  done  the  will 
of  your  sovereign  Master.  Perfect  devotedness 
(and  from  this  has  arisen  the  term  devotion)  exacts, 
not  only  that  we  do  the  will  of  God,  but  that  we 
do  it  with  love.  God  would  have  us  serve  him 
with  delight ;  it  is  our  hearts  that  he  demands  of 
us.     Such  a  master  is  entitled  to  our  love. 

This  devotion  must  be  manifested  in  everything. 
In  what  contradicts  our  views,  our  inclinations,  or 
our  projects;  it  should  make  us  stand  ready  to  yield 
up  our  fortunes,  our  time,  our  liberty,  our  life,  and 
our  reputation  to  the  will  of  God.  These  are  the 
dispositions,  and  such  will  be  the  effects  of  true 
devotion. 


FOURTH  DAY. 

ON    WEAK    AND    IMPERFECT    CONVERSIONS. 

People  who  have  lived  far  from  God,  are  apt 
to  think  thimselves  very  near  him  as  soon  as  they 
make  some  steps  towards  him. 

Thus,  polished  and  enlightened  men  make  the 
same  mistake  as  the  peasant  does,  who  thinks  he 
has  been  at  court,  because  he  has  seen  the  king. 
They  (pi it  their  most  heinous  vices,  and  adopt  a 
rather  less  criminal  life  ;  but  still  effeminate,  world- 
ly, and  vain  ,  they  judge  of  themselves,  not  by  the 


REFLECTIONS.  277 

Gospel,  which  is  the  only  rule  they  ought  to  fol- 
low, but  by  a  comparison  between  their  present 
life  and  the  one  they  formerly  led. 

This  is  enough,  they  think,  to  canonize  them  ; 
and  they  remain  in  a  profound  tranquillity  as  to 
what  is  yet  to  be  done  for  their  salvation.  Such 
a  state  is  perhaps  more  to  be  apprehended  than  one 
of  open  sin,  for  this  might  awaken  conscience,  and 
faith  might  revive,  and  they  might  make  a  great 
effort ;  while  the  other  state  only  serves  to  stifle 
salutary  remorse,  and  establish  a  false  peace  in  the 
heart,  that  renders  the  evil  irremediable. 

These  Christians  are  low-minded  and  cowardly  ; 
they  would  possess  heaven  at  a  low  price  ;  they 
do  not  think  of  what  it  has  cost  those  who  have 
obtained  it ;  they  do  not  consider  what  is  due  to 
God. 

Such  men  are  far  from  being  converted.  If  the 
Gospel  had  been  confided  to  them,  it  would  not 
have  been  what  it  is  now ;  we  should  have  had 
something  far  more  pleasing  to  oiu*  self-love.  But 
the  Gospel  is  immutable,  and  it  is  by  that  we  must 
be  judged.  Let  us  follow  this  sure  guide,  and  fear 
nothing  so  much  as  to  be  flattered  and  betrayed. 


24 


278  REFLECTIONS. 


FIFTH   DAY. 

ON    A    RIGHT    SPIRIT. 

"  Your  heavenly  Father  will  give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him." 

Luke  xi.  13. 

There  is  no  right  spirit,  but  the  spirit  of  God. 
The  spirit  that  leads  us  away  from  the  true  good, 
however  ingenious,  however  enticing,  however  able 
it  may  be  to  procure  us  perishing  riches,  is  only  a 
spirit  of  illusion  and  falsehood.  Would  we  wish 
to  be  borne  upon  a  brilliant  and  magnificent  car,  if 
it  were  hurrying  us  on  to  an  abyss  ?  Our  souls  were 
given  us  to  conduct  us  to  the  true  and  sovereign 
good.  There  can  be  no  right  spirit,  but  the  spirit 
of  God;  there  is  none  other  that  leads  us  to  him. 

There  is  a  great  difference  between  a  noble,  a 
high,  and  a  right  spirit ;  those  may  please  and  ex- 
cite admiration,  but  it  is  only  a  right  spirit  that  can 
save  us  and  make  us  truly  happy,  by  its  stability 
and  uprightness. 

Be  not  conformed  to  the  world.  Despise  what 
men  call  spirit,  as  much  as  they  admire  it.  It  is 
their  idol,  but  nothing  is  more  vain.  We  must  re- 
ject, not  only  this  false  and  dazzling  show  of  spirit, 
but  also  the  worldly  policy  which  has  a  more  sol- 
emn as[)ect  and  seems  more  profitable ;  and  enter, 
like  little  children,  into  the  simplicity  of  faith,  in- 
nocence of  manners,  a  horror  of  sin,  and  that 
humility  which  is  ready  to  take  up  the  cross. 


REFLECTIONS.  279 


SIXTH    DAY. 

ON    PATIENCE    IN    SUFFERING. 
"  In  your  patience  possess  ye  your  souls."     Luke  xxi.  19. 

The  soul  loses  command  of  itself,  when  it  is  im- 
patient. Whereas,  when  it  submits,  without  a 
murmur,  it  possesses  itself  in  peace,  and  God  is 
with  it.  To  be  impatient,  is  to  desire  what  we 
have  not,  and  not  to  desire  what  we  have.  An  im- 
patient soul  is  a  prey  to  passions  unrestrained,  either 
by  reason  or  faith.  What  weakness,  what  delusion  ! 
When  we  acquiesce  in  an  evil,  it  is  no  longer  such. 
Why  make  a  real  calamity  of  it,  by  resistance  ? 
Peace  does  not  dwell  in  outward  things,  but  with- 
in the  soul.  We  may  preserve  it  in  the  midst  of 
the  bitterest  pain,  if  our  will  remain  firm  and  sub- 
missive. Peace  in  this  life  springs  from  acquiescence 
even  in  disagreeable  things,  not  in  an  exemption 
from  sufFerinsr. 


SEVENTH    DAY. 


ON    SUBMISSION    AND    CONFORMITY    TO    THE    WILL    OF    GOD. 
"  Thy  will  be  done  in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven."     Matt.  vi.  10. 

Nothing  is  done  on  earth  or  in  heaven,  but  by 
the  will  or  by  the  permission  of  God ;  yet  men  do 


280  REFLECTIONS, 

not  desire  this  will,  but  inasmuch  as  it  promotes 
their  own  wishes. 

Let  us  desire  that  his  will  be  done,  and  only  his, 
and  we  shall  make  a  heaven  of  earth.  We  must 
thank  God  for  everything,  for  evil  as  well  as  good 
things ;  for  evil  becomes  good  when  he  sends  it. 
We  must  not  murmur  at  the  conduct  of  his  provi- 
dence ;  we  shall  find  it  is  all  in  wisdom,  and  adore 
it.  O  God,  what  do  I  see  in  the  course  of  the 
stars,  in  the  order  of  the  seasons,  but  thy  will 
which  they  accomplish  ?  Let  it  also  be  fulfilled  in 
my  soul. 

Jesus  said,  in  speaking  of  his  heavenly  Father, 
"  For  I  always  do  those  things  that  please  him  ;  " 
may  we  learn  how  far  we  can  follow  this  example. 
He  is  our  model,  he  whose  life  was  devotion  to 
the  will  of  God.  May  we  be  united  to  him  in  this 
spirit ;  may  we  no  longer  follow  our  own  inclina- 
tions, but  may  we  not  only  pray,  and  teach,  and 
suffer,  but  eat,  drink,  and  converse,  —  do  all  things, 
with  reference  to  his  will.  Then  will  our  lives  be 
a  continual  self-sacrifice,  and  an  incessant  prayer. 


REFLECTIONS.  281 


EIGHTH    DAY. 

ON    THE    ADVANTAGES    OF    PRAYER. 
"  Pray  without  ceasing."     1  Thes.  v.  17. 

Such  is  our  dependence  upon  God,  that  we  ought 
not  only  to  do  his  will,  but  we  ought  to  desire  to 
know  how  we  can  please  him.  How  unspeakable 
a  happiness  it  is  to  be  allowed  to  approach  our 
Creator  with  confidence,  to  open  our  hearts  to  him, 
and  through  prayer  to  hold  intimate  communion  with 
him.  He  invites  us  to  pray.  "  Will  he  not,"  says 
St.  Cyprian,  "  grant  us  those  blessings  that  he  com- 
mands us  to  ask  for  ?  "  Let  us  pray  then  with 
faith.  Happy  the  soul  that  is  blessed  in  its  prayers 
with  the  presence  of  God !  St.  James  says,  "  If 
any  among  you  is  afflicted,  let  him  pray:"  alas! 
we  often  think  this  heavenly  employment  weari- 
some. The  heartlessness  of  our  prayers  is  the 
source  of  our  other  infidelities. 

Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  to  you  ;  knock,  and  it 
shall  be  opened  ;  seek,  and  you  shall  find.  If  we 
had  only  to  ask  for  riches,  in  order  to  obtain  them, 
what  eagerness,  what  assiduity,  what  perseverance 
we  should  display.  If  by  seeking  we  could  find  a 
treasure,  we  could  remove  mountains  for  it.  If 
we  could  by  knocking  enter  into  the  counsels  of 
the  king,  or  a  high  oiBce,  with  what  reiterated 
24* 


282  REFLECTIONS. 

Strokes  should  we  make  ourselves  heard.  What 
are  we  not  willing  to  do  for  false  honor  ;  what  re- 
buffs, what  crosses  will  we  not  endure  for  the  phan- 
tom of  worldly  glory !  What  pains  will  we  not 
take  for  miserable  pleasures  that  leave  only  re- 
morse in  their  path  ! 

The  treasure  of  the  favor  of  God  is  the  only  one 
we  cannot  submit  to  ask  for,  the  only  one  that  we 
are  discouraged  from  seeking.  Still,  to  secure  this, 
we  have  only  to  ask  for  it ;  for  the  word  of  Jesus 
Christ  is  true,  it  is  our  conduct  that  is  unfaithful. 


NINTH    DAY. 


ON     ATTENTION     TO    THE    WORD    OF    GOD. 
"  Lord,  to  whom  sliall  wo  go?  thou  liastthe  words  of  eternal  life."    John,  vi.  68. 

It  is  to  Jesus  Christ  that  we  must  listen.  Men 
must  not  be  heard  or  believed,  but  inasmuch  as 
they  speak  with  the  truth  and  from  the  authority 
of  Jesus.  He  spoke  and  acted,  that  we  might  at- 
tend to  and  study  the  details  of  his  life.  Mistaken 
creatures  that  we  arc  !  we  follow  our  own  fancies, 
and  neglect  the  words  of  eternal  life. 

We  often  say,  tliat  we  desire  to  know  what  we 
must  do  to  become  more  virtuous  ;  but  when  the 
word  of  God  teaches  us,  our  courage  fails  us  in  the 
execution.  We  arc  conscious  that  we  arc  not  what 
we  ought  to  be.     Wc  see  our  own  wretchedness ; 


REFLECTIONS.  283 

it  increases  every  day,  and  we  think  we  have  done 
a  great  deal  in  saying  that  we  desire  to  be  deliver- 
ed from  it.  But  we  must  count  for  nothing  any 
resolution  that  falls  short  of  the  absolute  determi- 
nation to  sacrifice  whatever  arrests  us  in  our  pro- 
gress to  perfection.  Let  us  listen  to  what  God  in- 
spires, prove  the  spirit  so  as  to  know  if  it  comes 
from  him,  and  then  follow  where  that  may  lead  us. 


TENTH    DAY. 

ON    THE    RIGHT    USE    OF    CROSSES. 

"  They  that  are  Christ's  have  crucified  the  flesh,  with  the  affections  and  lusts." 

Gal.  v.  24. 

The  greater  our  dread  of  crosses,  the  more  neces- 
sary they  are  for  us.  Be  not  cast  down,  when  the 
hand  of  God  is  heavy  upon  you.  We  must 
measure  the  greatness  of  our  evils  by  the  violence 
of  the  remedies  that  the  physician  of  souls  thinks 
necessary  for  our  cure.  We  may  make  our  trials  a 
source  of  love  and  confidence  and  consolation,  say- 
ing with  the  Apostle,  ''  For  our  light  affliction, 
which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh  for  us  a  far 
more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 
Blessed  are^they  who  weep,  they  who  sow  in  tears, 
for  they  shall  reap,  with  joy  ineflable,  the  harvest 
of  eternal  life  and  felicity. 


284  REFLECTIONS. 

St.  Paul  said,  "  I  am  nailed  to  the  cross  with 
Jesus  Christ."  Let  us  pray  for  his  spirit  of  love 
and  self-renunciation.  What  can  we  suffer  that 
he  has  not  suffered.  Weak,  cowardly  nature,  be 
silent ;  look  at  the  Master,  and  be  ashamed  to  com- 
plain. Let  thy  love  to  him  reconcile  thee  to  thy 
cross;  then,  though  thou  shalt  suffer,  it  will  be 
willingly. 


ELEVENTH  DAY. 


ON    MEEKNESS    AND   HUMILITY. 
"  Learn  of  me  ;  for  1  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart."     Matt.  xi.  29. 

It  is  Jesus  who  gives  us  this  lesson  of  meekness 
and  humility ;  no  other  being  could  have  taught 
it  without  our  revolting  at  it.  In  all  others  we 
find  imperfection,  and  our  pride  would  not  fail  to 
take  advantage  of  it.  It  was  necessary  that  he 
should  himself  teach  us ;  and  he  has  condescended 
to  teach  us  by  his  example.  What  high  authority 
is  this !  we  have  only  to  be  silent  and  adore,  to 
admire  and  to  imitate. 

The  Son  of  God  has  descended  upon  the  earth, 
and  talccn  upon  himself  a  mortal  body,  and  expired 
upon  the  cross,  that  he  miglit  teach  u^  humility. 
Who  shall  not  be  humble  now  ?  Surely  not  the 
sinner  who  has  merited  so  often,  by  his  ingratitude, 


KEFLECTIONS. 


285 


God's  severest  punishments.  Humilty  is  the  source 
of  all  true  greatness  ;  pride  is  ever  impatient,  ready 
to  be  offended.  He  who  thinks  nothing  is  due  to 
him,  never  thuiks  himself  ill-treated;  true  meek- 
ness is  not  mere  temperament,  for  this  is  only  soft- 
ness or  weakness.  To  be  meek  to  others,  we  must 
renounce  self  The  Saviour  adds,  loioly  in  heart ; 
this  is  a  humility  to  which  the  will  entirely  con- 
sents, because  it  is  the  will  of  God,  and  for  his 
glory. 


TWELFTH   DAY. 


ON    THK    FAULTS    OF    OTHERS. 
"  Bear  ye  one  another's  burdens,  and  so  fulfil  llie  law  of  Clirisl."     Gal.  vi.  2. 

Charity  does  not  demand  of  us  that  we  should 
not  see  the  faults  of  others ;  we  must,  in  that  case, 
shut  our  eyes.  But  it  commands  us  to  avoid  at- 
tending unnecessarily  to  them,  and  that  we  be  not 
blind  to  the  good,  while  we  are  so  clear-sighted  to 
the  evil  that  exists.  We  must  remember,  too, 
God's  continual  kindness  to  the  most  worthless 
creature,  and  think  how  many  causes  we  have  to 
think  ill  of  ourselves ;  and  finally,  we  must  con- 
sider that  charity  embraces  the  very  lowest  human 
being.  It  acknowledges  that  in  the  sight  of  God, 
the  contempt  that  Ave  indulge  for  others  has  in  its 
very  nature  a  harshness  and  arro-ance  opposed  to 


286  REFLECTIONS. 

the  spirit  of  Jesns  Christ.  The  true  Christian  is 
not  insensible  to  what  is  contemptible  ;  but  he 
bears  with  it. 

Because  others  are  weak,  should  we  be  less  care- 
ful to  give  thera  their  due  ?  You  who  complain 
so  much  of  what  others  make  you  suffer,  do  you 
think  that  you  cause  others  no  pain?  You  who 
are  so  annoyed  at  your  neighbor's  defects,  are  you 
perfect  ? 

How  astonished  you  would  be,  if  those  whom 
you  cavil  at  should  make  all  the  comments  that 
they  might  upon  you.  But  even  if  the  whole 
world  were  to  bear  testimony  in  your  favor,  God, 
who  knows  all,  Avho  has  seen  all  your  faults,  could 
confound  you  with  a  word ;  and  does  it  never 
come  into  your  mind  to  fear,  lest  he  should  demand 
of  you  why  you  had  not  exercised  towards  your 
brother  a  little  of  that  mercy,  Avhich  he  who  is 
your  master  so  abundantly  bestows  upon  you  ? 


THIRTEENTH  DAY. 

ON    THE    ONE    THING    NECESSARY. 

"  Tliou  art  careful  and  Iroulilcil  about  many  tilings}  but  one  thinjr  is  needful." 

Luke  x.  41,  42. 

We  think  we  have  many  important    concerns, 
but  we  have  really  but  one.     If  that  is  attended  to, 


REFLECTIONS.  - 


287 


all  others  will  be  done  ;  if  that  is  wanting,  all  the 
rest,  however  successful  they  may  seem  to  be,  will 
go  to  ruin.  Why  then  should  we  divide  our  hearts 
and  our  occupations  ?  Oh  !  thou  sole  business  of 
life,  henceforth  thou  shall  have  my  undivided  at- 
tention. Cheered  by  the  presence  of  God,  I  will 
do  at  the  moment,  without  anxiety,  according  to 
the  strength  which  he  shall  give  me,  the  work  that 
his  providence  assigns  me.  I  will  leave  the  rest; 
it  is  not  my  affair. 

"Father,  I  have  finished  the  work  which  thou 
gavest  me  to  do."  Each  one  of  us  must  be  ready 
to  say  this  in  the  day  in  which  we  must  render  an 
account.  I  ought  to  consider  the  duty  to  which  I 
am  called  each  day,  as  the  work  that  God  has 
given  me  to  do,  and  to  apply  myself  to  it  in  a  man- 
ner worthy  of  his  glory,  that  is  to  say,  with  exact- 
ness and  in  peace.  I  must  neglect  nothing  ;  I  must 
be  violent  in  nothing  ;  for  it  is  dangerous,  either  to 
perform  the  works  of  God  with  negligence,  or  to 
appropriate  them  to  ourselves  by  self-love  and  false 
zeal.  In  that  case,  we  act  from  our  own  individual 
feeling,  and  we  do  the  work  ill,  for  we  get  fretted 
and  excited,  and  think  only  of  success.  The  glory 
of  God  is  the  pretext  that  covers  this  illusion. 
Self-love,  under  the  disguise  of  zeal,  complains 
and  thinks  itself  injured  if  it  does  not  succeed. 
Almighty  God,  grant  me  thy  grace  to  be  faithful 
in  action,  and  not  anxious  about  success.  My  only 
concern  is  to  do  thy  will,  and  to  lose  myself  in 


288  REFLECTIONS. 

thee,  when  engaged  in  dnty.  It  is  for  thee  to  give 
to  my  weak  efforts  such  fruits  as  thou  seest  fit ; 
none,  if  such  be  thy  pleasure. 


FOURTEENTH   DAY. 


ON    A    PREPARATION    FOR    DEATH. 


"  Thou  fool !  tliis  night  thy  soul  shnll  he  required  of  thee  ;  then  whoso  shall  those 
things  be,  which  thou  hast  provided  ?  "     Luke  xii.  20. 

Nothing  is  so  terrible  as  death,  to  those  who  are 
strongly  attached  to  this  life.  It  is  strange  that  we 
do  not  form  a  more  just  judgment  of  the  present 
and  of  the  future.  We  are  as  infatuated  with  this 
world  as  if  it  were  never  to  come  to  an  end.  The 
names  of  those  who  now  play  the  most  distinguished 
parts  in  life  will  perish  with  them.  It  is  the  will 
of  God,  that  all  living  things  shall  be  swallowed 
in  a  profound  oblivion,  man  more  especially.  The 
pyramids  of  Egypt  still  stand,  while  the  names  of 
those  who  erected  them  are  unknown. 

What  then  can  we  accomplish  here  ?  To  what 
purpose  is  the  happiest  life,  if  by  a  wise  and  Chris- 
tian course  it  docs  not  conduct  us  to  a  hapjiy  death  ? 
"  Be  ye  also  ready  ;  for  in  such  an  hour  as  ye  think 
not,  the  son  of  man  cometh."  These  words  are 
addressed  to  each  one  of  us,  of  whatever  age  and 
in  whatever  rank  we  may  be  placed.  Why  do  we 
so  cling  to  life  ?  and  whence   comes   it   that  we 


REFLECTIONS.  289 

shrink  so  from  death  ?  It  is,  that  we  do  not  desire 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  the  glories  of  a  fnture 
world.  Oh  !  ye  dull  souls,  that  cannot  raise  your 
thoughts  above  this  world,  where,  by  your  own  con- 
fession, you  cannot  find  happiness.  The  true  way 
to  be  ready  for  the  last  hour,  is  to  employ  the  present 
hour  well,  and  ever  to  expect  the  final  one. 


FIFTEENTH   DAY. 


ON    OUR    ETERNAL    HOPES. 


"  Eye  hfith  not  snen,iior  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man,  tb« 
tilings  whicii  God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  him."     1  Cor.  ii.  9. 

What  a  disproportion  there  is  between  what 
we  endure  here  and  what  we  hope  for  in  heaven! 
The  first  Christians  rejoiced  without  ceasing  at  the 
hope  placed  before  them  ;  for  they  believed  that 
they  saw  the  heavens  opening  to  them.  The  cross, 
disgrace,  punishment,  the  niost  cruel  death  could 
not  discourage  them.  They  trusted  to  that  infinite 
goodness,  that  would  compensate  them  for  all  their 
sufferings.  They  were  transported  with  joy  at  be- 
ing counted  worthy  to  suffer;  while  we,  cowardly 
spirits,  cannot  endure,  because  we  cannot  hope ; 
we  are  overwhelmed  by  the  least  sorrow,  and  often 
by  those  troubles  that  spring  from  our  own  pride, 
or  imprudence,  or  effeminacy. 
25 


290  REFLECTIONS. 

"  They  who  sow  in  tears  shall  reap  in  joy." 
We  must  sow  in  order  to  reap.  This  life  is  the 
seed  time  ;  we  shall  enjoy  the  fruits  of  our  labors 
in  another.  Earthly-minded  men,  weak  and  im- 
patient as  they  are,  would  reap  before  they  have 
sowed. 

We  desire  that  God  would  please  us,  that  he 
would  smooth  the  way  that  leads  to  him.  We  are 
willing  to  serve  him,  if  it  does  not  cost  us  much.  To 
hope  for  a  great  reward,  and  suffer  but  little  for  it,  this 
is  what  our  self-love  proposes.  Blind  that  we  are  ! 
shall  we  never  know  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
must  suffer  violence ;  that  it  is  only  strong  and 
courageous  souls  that  shall  be  counted  worthy  of 
victory  ?  Weep,  then,  since  blessed  are  they  who 
mourn,  for  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their 
eyes. 


SIXTEENTH    DAY. 

ON    OUR    DAILY    BREAD. 
"Give  us  (lay  by  day  our  daily  binad."     Luke  xi.  3. 

What  is  this  bread,  O  my  God  ?  It  is  not 
merely  the  support  which  thy  providence  supplies 
for  the  necessities  of  life  ;  it  is  also  the  nourish- 
ment of  truth  which  thou  dispensest  day  by  day 
to  the  soul  ;  it  is  the  bread  of  eternal  life,  giving 
it  vigor,  and  making  it  grow  in  fuith.     All  that  is 


H  REFLECTIONS.  291 

within  and  all  that  is  without  us,  is  bestowed  by 
thee  for  the  advancement  of  onr  souls  in  a  life  of 
faith  and  self-renunciation.  I  have  then  only  to 
receive  this  bread,  and  to  accept,  in  the  spirit  of 
self-sacrifice,  whatever  thou  shalt  ordain,  of  bitter- 
ness in  my  external  circumstances,  or  within  my 
heart.  For  whatever  happens  to  me  each  day  is 
my  daily  bread,  provided  I  receive  it  as  from  thy 
hands,  and  for  the  support  of  my  soul. 

It  is  hunger  that  makes  the  food  for  our  bodies 
useful  and  agreeable  to  us.  Let  us  hunger  and 
thirst  after  righteousness.  The  food  of  the  mind 
is  truth  and  goodness  ;  let  us  seek  for  it,  feed  upon 
it,  and  be  strengthened  by  it.  This  is  the  spiritual 
bread  of  which  we  must  eat.  Let  us  hunger  for 
it;  let  us  humbly  pray  to  God  for  it;  let  us  be 
conscious  of  our  weakness  and  need  of  it  ;  let  us 
read,  and  let  us  pray,  with  this  hunger  after  the 
food  for  our  souls  ;  lot  us  thirst  after  the  fountain 
of  living  waters.  It  is  only  an  earnest  and  con- 
tinual desire  for  instruction  that  renders  us  worthy 
to  receive  these  heavenly  truths.  To  each  one 
this  true  bread  of  life  is  dispensed  according  to  the 
measure  of  his  desire  for  it. 


292  REFLECTIONS. 


SEVENTEENTH  DAY. 

ON  THE  PEACE  OF  THE  SOUL. 

"  Peace  I  leave  with  you  ;  my  peace  I  give  unto  you,  not  as  tlie  world  givetli." 

John  xiv.  27, 

All  men  seek  for  peace,  but  they  do  not  seek  it 
where  it  is  to  be  found.  The  peace  that  the  world 
can  give  is  as  different  from  that  which  God  be- 
stows, as  God  is  different  from  men  ;  or  rather,  the 
world  promises  peace,  but  never  gives  it. 

It  presents  some  passing  pleasures  to  us,  but 
these  cost  more  than  they  are  worth.  It  is  only 
the  religion  of  Jesus  that  can  give  us  peace.  This 
sets  us  at  peace  with  ourselves  ;  it  subdues  our  pas- 
sions, and  regulate?  our  desires  ;  it  consoles  us  with 
the  hope  of  everlasting  good ;  it  gives  us  the  joy 
of  the  holy  spirit  ;  it  enables  us  to  be  happy ;  it 
gives  us  peace  of  mind  in  the  midst  of  outward 
trials ;  and  as  the  source  from  whence  it  springs  is 
inexhaustible,  and  as  the  recesses  of  the  soul  which 
it  inhabits  are  inaccessible  to  the  malignity  of  men, 
it  is  to  the  righteous  a  treasure  that  can  never  fail. 

True  peace  is  the  possession  of  the  favor  of  God. 
This  is  found  only  in  submission,  faith,  and  obe- 
dience to  his  laws;  it  is  the  result  of  a  pure  and 
holy  love  for  him.  Resign  every  forbidden  joy ; 
restrain    every   wish   that  is  not    referred   to  his 


REFLECTIONS.  293 

will ;  banish  all  eager  desires,  all  anxiety.  Desire 
only  the  will  of  God  ;  seek  him  alone,  and  you 
will  find  peace  ;  you  shall  enjoy  it  in  spite  of  the 
world.  What  is  it  that  troubles  you  ?  poverty, 
neglect,  want  of  success,  external  or  internal 
troubles  ?  Look  upon  everything  as  in  the  hands 
of  God,  and  as  real  blessings  that  he  bestows  upon 
his  children,  of  which  you  receive  your  portion. 
Then  the  world  may  turn  its  face  from  you,  but 
nothing  will  deprive  you  of  peace. 


EIGHTEENTH  DAY. 


ON    DECEITFUL    PLEASURES. 


"  I  said  of  laughter  it,  It  is  mad  ;  and  of  niirlli,  what  doeth  it  ?  "     Eccl.  ii.  2. 

People  of  the  world  rejoice,  as  the  sick  man 
does  in  his  delirium  ;  or  as  they  do,  who  have  a 
pleasant  dream.  We  attach  ourselves  to  a  shadow 
that  fleeth  away.  We  are  delighted  only  because 
we  are  deceived.  We  think  we  have  great  pos- 
sessions, when  we  are  poor  indeed.  When  we 
awake  from  the  sleep  of  death,  we  shall  find  our 
hands  empty,  and  shall  be  ashamed  of  our  joy. 
Wo  to  them  who  enjoy  in  this  world  a  false  happi- 
ness, that  excludes  the  only  true  felicity.  Let  us 
ever,  say  to  these  vain  and  transitory  joys,  Why 
25* 


294 


REFLECTIONS. 


temptest  thou  me  ?  Nothing  is  worthy  of  our 
hearts,  but  our  hope  of  future  blessedness.  All 
that  does  not  rest  upon  this,  is  a  dream. 

Whosoever  drinketh  of  this  water  shall  thirst 
again.  The  more  we  drink  of  the  corrupt  waters 
of  the  world,  the  more  shall  we  thirst.  In  propor- 
tion as  we  yield  to  evil,  are  our  hearts  dissatisfied. 
Avarice  and  ambition  experience  more  anxiety  for 
those  things  that  they  do  not  possess,  than  pleasure 
from  what  they  have. 

Pleasure  enervates  the  soul,  corrupts  it,  and  ren- 
ders it  insatiable ;  the  more  we  yield  the  more  we 
desire  to  yield.  It  is  easier  to  preserve  our  hearts 
in  a  state  of  holiness,  christian  feeling,  and.  self-de- 
nial, than  to  restore  it,  or  control  it,  when  it  has 
once  got  into  the  vortex  of  pleasure  and  self-in- 
dulgence. 

Let  us  watch,  then,  over  ourselves ;  let  us  be- 
ware of  drinking  of  those  waters  that  will  only 
inflame  our  thirst.  Let  us  keep  our  hearts  with  all 
diligence,  lest  the  vain  pleasures  of  the  world  should 
seduce  them,  and  leave  us  at  last  in  despair  at  find- 
ing ourselves  deceived. 


,  REFLECTIONS.  295 

NINETEENTH   DAY. 

ON    HOLY    TEARS. 
"  Blessed  are  they  iliat  mourn,  for  they  shall  he   comforted."     Matt.  v.  4. 

It  is  the  goodness  of  God  that  inspires  us  with 
the  fear  of  losing  his  love,  the  fear  of  departing 
from  the  right  way.  This  excites  the  tears  of  holy 
men.  If  we  think  ourselves  in  danger  of  losing 
what  is  most  precious  to  us,  we  must  weep. 
When  we  see  only  vanity  and  blindness,  contempt 
and  disregard  of  God  Almighty  whom  we  adore, 
we  must  weep.  God  will  not  disapprove  of  our 
grief;  it  is  he  that  inspires  it.  It  is"  love  for  him 
that  causes  our  tears  to  flow,  and  he  himself  will 
wipe  them  away. 


TWENTIETH  DAY. 

ON    WORLDLY    WISDOM. 
"  To  be  carnally  minded  is  death."    RoM.  viii.  6. 

The  wisdom  of  the  children  of  this  world  is 
great.  Jesus  Christ  declares  it  in  the  Gospel,  and 
it  is  often  greater  than  that  of  the  children  of  light  ; 
but  there  is  to  be  found  in  it,  notwithstanding  its 
specious  and  brilliant  pretensions,  a  terrible  defect. 


296  REFLECTIONS. 

It  is  death  to  those  who  take  it  for  the  guide  of 
their  life. 

This  crooked  policy,  fertile  of  inventions,  is  op- 
posed entirely  to  that  from  God,  which  ever  goes 
straight  forward  in  uprightness  and  simplicity.  Of 
what  benefit  will  all  their  talents  be  to  these  wise 
men  of  the  world,  if  at  the  last  they  are  caught  in 
their  own  snares  ?  The  apostle  St.  James  calls 
this  wisdom  earthly,  sensual,  devilish  ;  earthly,  be- 
cause it  limits  its  desires  to  the  possession  of  earthly 
good ;  sensual,  because  it  labors  only  for  those 
things  that  flatter  the  passions,  and  plunges  men 
into  sensual  delights;  diabolical,  because,  while  it 
has  the  shrev/dness,  the  penetration  of  a  demon,  it 
also  has  the  malice  of  one.  Its  possessors  think 
they  deceive  the  whole  world,  but  they  only  de- 
ceive themselves. 

Blind  are  all  those  who  think  themselves  Avise, 
and  have  not  the  wisdom  that  Jesus  taught.  They 
arc  running  in  profound  darkness  after  a  phantom. 
They  are  like  a  man  in  a  dream,  who  thinks  that 
he  is  awake,  and  who  imagines  that  the  objects  he 
sees  are  real.  Thus  deceived  are  they,  who  are 
called  great  in  the  world,  wise  in  their  generation, 
who  arc  the  victims  of  deceitful  pleasures.  It  is 
only  the  children  of  God  who  walk  in  the  light  of 
pure  trntli. 

What  awaits  these  men  who  arc  so  full  of  their 
own  vain  and  ambitious  thoughts  ?  Often  disgrace, 
always  death,  the  judgment  of  God,  and  eternity. 


REFLECTIONS.  297 

These  arc  the  great  objects  that  arc  ever  before, 
and  that  ever  await  these  men,  but  they  do  not 
discern  them.  Their  worldly  wisdom  can  foresee 
everything,  except  the  downfall  and  annihilation 
of  everything  they  hold  dear.  Deluded  beings, 
when  will  you  open  your  eyes  to  the  light  of 
Christianity,  that  will  discover  to  you  the  nothing- 
ness of  earthly  glory ! 


TWENTY-FIRST    DAY. 


ON    TRUST    IN    GOD. 


"  It  is  better  to  trust  in  the  Lord,  than  to  put  confiJenrre  in  mnn." 

Psalm  c.wiii.  8. 

We  are  ever  ready  to  confide  in  weak  friends, 
and  we  are  afraid  to  trust  hi  God.  We  believe  the 
promises  of  the  world,  but  we  cannot  believe  the 
word  of  God.  Let  us  make  an  effort  to  restore  the 
divine  order;  let  ns  confide  with  moderation  in 
what  depends  upon  ourselves,  but  let  us  set  no 
bounds  to  our  confidence  in  God.  Let  us  repress 
all  eagerness,  ail  inquietude,  all  that  we  call  zeal. 
He  who  thus  trusts  in  God  becomes  immovable  as 
Mount  Zion.  Our  trust  should  be  more  firm  and  ele- 
vated. "  I  can  do  all  things,  through  Christ  which 
strengtheneth  me." 


298  REFLECTIONS. 


TWENTY-SECOND    DAY. 

ON  THE  DEPTH  OF  THE  MERCY  OF  GOD. 

Let  ns  give  ourselves  to  God  without  any  re- 
serve, and  let  us  not  be  afraid ;  he  will  fill  our 
whole  hearts,  these  hearts  that  the  world  may  in- 
toxicate, trouble,  agitate,  but  cannot  satisfy.  He 
will  deprive  us  only  of  those  things  that  n)ake  us 
unhappy.  Our  occupations  will  not  be  changed, 
but  they  will  be  performed  with  reference  to  the 
will  of  God.  We  shall  meet  the  approach  of  death 
in  peace.  It  will  be  to  us  only  the  commencment 
of  an  immortal  life.  We  shall,  as  St.  Paul  says, 
"  not  be  unclothed,  but  be  clothed  upon,  that  mor- 
tality may  be  swallowed  up  in  life,"  and  then  we 
shall  comprehend  the  depth  of  the  mercy  of  God. 

Let  us  contemplate,  as  in  the  presence  of  God, 
all  the  proofs  that  we  have  experienced  of  his  mer- 
cy ;  the  light  which  Jesus  Christ  has  shed  upon 
our  soul,  the  pure  affection  that  he  has  inspired, 
the  sins  that  have  been  forgiven  us,  the  snares 
which  we  have  escaped,  the  protection  we  have  re- 
ceived. Let  our  hearts  be  touched  with  the  re- 
membrance of  all  these  precious  proofs  of  his  good- 
ness. Add  to  tills  til'!  sorrows  that  he  has  sent  to 
sanctify  our  hearts  ;  for  we  should  look  upon  these 
as  proofs  of  his  love  for  us.  Let  gratitude  for  the 
past  inspire  us  with  confidence  in  the  future.     Let 


REFLECTIONS,  299 

US  never  distrust  him :  let  us  fear  only  ourselves, 
remember  that  he  is  the  Father  of  mercies,  and  the 
God  of  all  consolation.  He  sometimes  takes  away 
his  consolations  from  us,  but  his  mercy  ever  remains. 


TWENTY-THIRD  DAY. 

ON    THE    YOKE    OF    JESUS    CHRIST. 
"  My  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is  liglit."     Matt.  xi.  30. 

Let  not  the  word  yoke  terrify  us ;  we  feel  the 
weight  of  it,  but  we  do  not  bear  it  alone.  Jesus 
Christ  will  enable  us  to  bear  it,  he  will  teach  us 
the  charm  of  justice  and  truth,  the  chaste  delights 
of  virtue  ;  his  religion  supports  man  against  him- 
self, against  his  corrupt  desires,  and  makes  him 
strong  in  spite  of  his  weakness.  Oh,  ye  of  little 
faith,  what  do  ye  fear  ?  You  suffer,  but  you  may 
suffer  with  peace,  with  love  for  God.  You  must 
fight,  but  you  shall  gain  the  victory ;  God  is  on 
your  side,  and  he  will  crown  you  with  his  own 
hands.  You  weep,  but  he  himself  shall  wipe 
away  your  tears.  Is  it  to  be  lamented  that  we  are 
delivered  from  the  heavy  yoke  of  the  world,  and 
have  only  to  bear  the  light  burden  that  Jesus 
Christ  imposes  ?  Do  we  fear  being  too  free  from 
self,  from  the  caprices  of  our  pride,  the  violence  of 
our  passions,  and  the  tyranny  of  the  world  ? 


300  REFLECTIONS. 


TWENTY-FOURTH    DAY. 

ON    FALSE    LIBERTY. 
"Where  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  freedom."    2  Cor.  iii.  17. 

When  we  obey  the  world,  we  call  ourselves 
free,  because  we  follow  our  own  inclinations. 
Foolish  mistake  !  is  there  any  condition  in  which 
we  have  not  as  many  masters  as  there  are  individ- 
uals with  whom  we  are  connected  ?  Is  there  any 
one  in  which  we  do  not  depend  even  more  upon 
the  whims  of  others,  than  upon  our  own  ?  All  the 
commerce  of  life  is  continual  constraint,  from  the 
thraldom  of  decorum  and  from  the  necessity  of 
pleasing  others. 

Besides  this,  our  own  passions  are  worse  than 
the  most  cruel  tyrants.  If  we  obey  them  only  in 
part,  we  must  maintain  a  continual  contest  with 
them,  and  have  hardly  time  to  breathe.  Then 
they  betray  us,  they  distract  our  hearts,  they  tread 
under  foot  the  laws  of  honor  and  reason,  and  never 
say,  It  is  enough.  If  we  yield  ourselves  up  to 
them,  where  Avill  they  lead  us  ?  I  shrink  from  the 
thought.  Oh  my  God,  preserve  me  from  the  fatal 
slavery  that  men  madly  call  liberty.  With  thee 
alone  is  freedom.  It  is  thy  truth  that  makes  us 
free.     To  servo  thee  is  true  dominion. 


REFLECTIONS.  301 


TWENTY-FIFTH    DAY. 

ON    THE    DETERMINATION    TO    LIVE    ENTIRELY    TO    GOD. 
"Lord,  what  wilt  tliou  have  me  to  do?"    Acts  ix.  6. 

These  are  the  words  of  St.  Paul,  when  he  was 
miraculously  addressed  by  the  grace  of  that  Saviour 
whom  he  had  persecuted.  Do  we  not  still  perse- 
cute him  by  our  pride  and  our  passions  ;  and  when 
tribulation  comes,  and  our  pride  is  overthrown, 
and  our  self-love  is  confounded,  shall  we  not  say 
to  him  with  perfect  submission,  Lord,  what  wilt 
thou  have  me  to  do  ? 

It  is  not  enough  that  this  offer  of  ourselves  be 
made  in  general  terms  only,  it  must  include  all  the 
details  of  duty.  It  costs  very  little  to  desire  per- 
fection. We  must  truly  desire  it,  more  than  all 
temjporal  blessings,  even  the  most  cherished  and 
the  most  ardently  pursued.  We  must  not  do  less 
for  the  service  of  God  than  we  have  done  for  the 
world.  Let  us  ask  our  hearts  this  question.  Am  I 
resolved  to  sacrifice  to  God  my  strongest  affections, 
my  most  deeply-rooted  habits,  my  predominating 
inclinations,  my  greatest  pleasures  ? 


26 


302  REFLECTIONS. 


TWENTY-SIXTH    DAY. 

ON    THE    COMPROMISES    THAT    WE    WOULD    MAKE    WITH    GOD. 

"  How  long  halt  ya  between  two  opinions  ?"     1  Kings  xviii.  21. 
"  No  man  can  serve  two  masters."    Matt.  vi.  24. 

We  know  that  we  must  love  and  serve  God,  if 
we  would  be  saved ;  but  we  are  anxious  to  strip 
his  service  of  everything  burthensome  and  disa- 
greeable. We  wish  to  serve  him,  if  he  demands 
only  a  few  words  and  ceremonies ;  and  these  must 
be  short,  for  we  are  soon  wearied.  We  wish  to 
love  him,  provided  we  have  not  to  relinquish  this 
blind  love  of  ourselves,  that  amounts  to  idolatry, 
and  that  seems,  instead  of  leading  us  to  him  as  the 
Being  for  whom  we  were  made,  to  seek  him  only 
as  a  resource  when  all  other  creatures  fail  us.  We 
wish  to  love  and  serve  him,  while  we  are  ashamed 
of  our  love  for  him,  and  hide  it  as  though  it  were 
a  weakness,  and  blush  as  if  we  were  afraid,  and 
thought  that  he  was  unworthy  of  our  love  ;  we 
bestow  upon  him  some  few  of  the  externals  of  re- 
ligion, to  avoid  scandal.  Thus  we  live  under  the 
control  of  the  world,  and  offer  nothing  to  God 
without  its  permission.  What  sort  of  love  and 
service  is  this  ? 

God  will  enter  into  no  other  covenant  with  us, 
than  that  in  which  we  promise  to  renounce  self 
and  devote  ourselves  to  him  —  than  that  which  is 


REFLECTIONS. 


303 


contained  in  the  first  commandment,  where  he 
exacts  without  any  reserve  all  our  hearts,  all  our 
minds,  and  all  our  strength.  If  we  truly  love  God, 
shall  we  be  afraid  of  sacrificing  too  much  for  him? 
Can  we  love  him,  and  be  satisfied  when  we  dis- 
please hmi,  or  without  taking  pains  to  do  his  will 
and  glorify  him,  and  being  ever  ready  to  testify 
courageously  to  the  strength  and  sincerity  of  our 
love  for  him  ? 


TWENTY-SEVENTH   DAY. 

ON    THE    RIGHT    EMPLOYMENT    OF    TIME. 

"Let  us  do  good  as  we  have  opportunity."     Gal.  vi.  10. 
"  The  night  cometh,  wlien  no  man  can  work."     John  ix.  4. 

Time  is  precious,  but  we  do  not  comprehend  all 
its  value.  We  shall  know  it  only  when  it  will  no 
longer  be  of  any  advantage  to  us.  Our  friends  make 
demands  upon  it,  as  if  it  were  nothing,  and  we  be- 
stow it  in  the  same  way.  Often  it  is  a  burthen  to 
us.  We  know  not  what  to  do  with  it.  A  day 
will  come,  when  a  single  quarter  of  an  hour  may 
appear  of  more  worth  to  us  than  the  riches  of  the 
whole  world.  God,  who  is  so  free  and  liberal  in 
his  bounty  to  us  in  everything  else,  teaches  us,  by 
the  wise  economy  of  his  providence,  how  careful 
we  should  be  of  the  use  of  time ;  for  he  gives  us 
but  one  instant,  and  withdraws  that  as  he  gives  us 


304  REFLECTIONS. 

a  second,  while  he  retains  the  third  in  his  own 
hands,  leaving  ns  in  entire  uncertainty  whether  it 
will  ever  be  ours. 

Time  is  given  us  to  prepare  for  eternity,  and 
eternity  will  not  be  too  long  for  our  regrets  at  the 
loss  of  time,  if  we  have  misspent  it.  Our  lives  as 
well  as  our  hearts  belong  to  God;  he  has  given 
them  both  for  his  service.  We  cannot  always  be 
doing  a  great  work,  but  we  can  always  be  doing 
something  that  belongs  to  our  condition.  To  be 
silent,  to  suffer,  to  pray  when  we  cannot  act,  is 
acceptable  to  God.  A  disappointment,  a  contradic- 
tion, a  harsh  word  received  and  endured  as  in  his 
presence,  is  worth  more  than  a  long  prayer;  and 
we  do  not  lose  time  if  we  bear  its  loss  with  gentle- 
ness and  patience,  provided  the  loss  was  inevitable, 
and  was  not  caused  by  our  own  fault. 

Thus  let  us  spend  our  days,  redeeming  the  time, 
by  quitting  vain  amusements,  useless  correspond- 
ences, those  weak  outpourings  of  the  heart  that  are 
only  modifications  of  self-love,  and  conversations 
that  dissipate  the  mind,  and  lead  to  no  good.  Thus 
we  shall  find  time  to  serve  God  ;  and  there  is  none 
well  employed  that  is  not  devoted  to  him. 


REFLECTIONS.  305 


TWENTY-EIGHTH   DAY. 

ON    THE    PRESENCE    OF    GOD, 
"  Walk  before  me,  and  be  thou  perfect."    Gen.  xvii.  1. 

These  are  the  words  of  God  to  faithful  Abraham. 
Whoever  walks  in  thy  presence,  O  Lord,  is  in  the 
path  to  perfection.  We  never  depart  from  this 
holy  way,  but  we  lose  sight  of  thee,  and  cease  to 
behold  thee  in  everything.  Alas!  where  shall  we 
go,  when  we  no  longer  see  thee,  thee  who  art 
our  light,  and  the  only  goal  to  which  our  steps 
should  tend?  To  have  our  eyes  fixed  on  thee  in 
every  step  we  take,  is  our  only  security  that  we 
shall  never  go  astray.  Faith,  beaming  Avith  light 
amidst  the  darkness  that  surrounds  us,  I  behold  thee 
with  thy  look  of  holy  love  and  trust,  leading  man 
to  perfection.  Oh  God,  I  will  fix  my  eyes  on  ihee  ; 
I  will  behold  thee  in  everything  that  is  around  me. 
The  order  of  thy  providence  shall  arrest  my  atten- 
tion. My  heart  shall  still  see  thee  in  the  midst  of 
the  busy  cares  of  life,  in  all  its  duties,  all  its  con- 
cerns ;  for  they  shall  all  be  fulfilled  in  obedience 
to  thy  will.  "  I  will  lift  my  eyes  unto  the  holy 
hills,  whence  cometh  my  strength." 

In  vain  does  our  own  foresight  strive  to  escape 
the  snares  that  surround  us :  danger  comes  from 
below,  but  deliverance  only  from  on  high.     Temp- 
tations are  without  and  within  us  :  we  should  be 
26* 


306 


REFLECTIONS. 


lost,  O  Lord,  without  thee.  To  thee  I  raise  my 
eyes,  upon  thee  I  rest  my  heart ;  my  own  weak- 
ness frightens  me.  Thy  all-powerful  mercy  will 
support  my  infii-mity. 


TWENTY-NINTH   DAY. 

ON    THE   LOVE   WHICH    GOD   HAS   FOR    US. 
"  I  have  loved  thee  with  an  everlasting  love."    Jer.  xxxi.  3. 

God  has  not  waited  for  us  to  love  him ;  before 
all  time,  before  we  were  endowed  with  life,  he 
thought  of  us,  and  thought  of  doing  us  good. 
What  he  meditated  in  eternity,  he  has  performed 
in  time.  His  beneficent  hand  has  bestowed  every 
variety  of  blessings  upon  us;  neither  our  unfaith- 
fulness nor  ingratitude  has  dried  up  the  fountain  of 
his  goodness  to  us,  or  arrested  the  stream  of  his 
bounty. 

Oh  thou  Eternal  Love,  that  hast  loved  me  when 
I  could  neither  know  nor  acknowledge  tliee  ;  im- 
measurable love  !  that  has  made  me  what  I  am, 
that  has  given  me  all  I  possess,  and  that  has 
as  yet  promised  me  infinitely  more !  Oh  love, 
without  interruption,  without  change,  that  all  the 
bitter  waters  of  my  iniquities  could  not  extinguish  ! 
Have  1  any  heart,  oh  my  God,  if  I  am  not  pene- 
trated with  gratitude  and  love  for  thee  ? 


REFLECTIONS. 


307 


THIRTIETH    DAY. 

ON    THE    LOVE    THAT    WE    OUGHT    TO    HAVE    TOWARDS    GOD. 

"  W^hom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ?  and  there  is  none  on  earlli  that  I  desire  be- 
side thee."     Psalm  Ixxiii.  25. 

We  often,  when  we  say  we  love  God  with  our 
whole  souls,  utter  mere  Avords ;  it  is  a  sound  with- 
out any  sense.  We  learned  to  speak  thus  in  our 
infancy,  and  we  continue,  when  we  grow  up,  with- 
out knowing  what  we  say.  To  love  God  is  to 
make  his  will  ours ;  it  is  to  obey  faithfully  his  laws  ; 
it  is  to  abhor  sin.  To  love  God  is  to  love  all  that 
Jesus  Christ  loved,  —  poverty,  humiliation,  suffer- 
ing ;  it  is  to  hate  what  he  hated,  the  vanities  of 
the  world,  our  own  passions. 

Can  we  think  that  we  truly  love  an  object  that 
we  do  not  wish  to  resemble  ?  To  love  God  is  to 
hold  a  willing  communion  with  him ;  it  is  to  de- 
sire to  be  near  to  him  ;  it  is  to  thirst  for  his  presence. 
Mankind  live  in  a  deathlike  coldness.  They  love 
a  little  base  metal,  a  house,  a  name,  an  airy  title,  a 
chimera  that  they  call  reputation.  They  love  a 
conversation  or  a  passing  amusement.  It  is  God 
alone  whom  they  do  not  love ;  all  our  love  is  ex- 
hausted upon  the  most  paltry  things. 

Would  we  not  know  the  happiness  of  loving 
God  ?  Oh  God,  reign  in  our  hearts  in  spite  of  our 
infidelities ;  let  the  flame  of  thy  holy  love  extin- 


308  REFLECTIONS. 

giiish  all  other.  What  shall  we  ever  find  truly 
lovely  away  from  thee,  that  we  shall  not  find  in 
thee,  who  art  all  perfection,  and  who  art  the  source 
of  every  good  ? 


THIRTY-FIRST   DAY. 


ON    LOVE    TO    GOD. 


"  Oh  God  of  my  heart,  Oh  God,  my  poition  forever."     Psalm  Ixxiii.  26. 

Can  we  know  thee,  oh  my  God,  and  not  love 
thee  ?  thee,  who  surpassest  in  greatness,  and  power, 
and  goodness,  and  bounty,  in  magnificence,  in  all 
sorts  of  perfections,  and  what  is  more  to  me,  in  thy 
love  for  me,  all  that  a  created  being  can  compre- 
hend ?  Thou  pcrmittcst  me,  thou  commandest  me 
to  love  thee.  Shall  the  mad  passions  of  the  world 
be  indulged  with  ardor,  and  we  love  thee  with  a 
cold  and  measured  love?  Oh  no,  my  God;  let 
not  the  profane  be  stronger  than  the  divine  love. 

Send  thy  spirit  into  my  heart ;  it  is  open  to  thee, 
all  its  recesses  arc  known  to  thee.  Thou  knowest 
how  far  it  is  capable  of  loving  tlicc.  Weak  and 
helpless  being  that  T  am,  I  can  give  only  my  love ; 
increase  it,  Almighty  God,  and  render  it  more  wor- 
thy of  thee. 


SHORT     MEDITATIONS 


UPON    DIFFERENT    SUBJECTS 


TAKEN    FROM    THE    HOLY    SCRIPTURES. 


FIRST    MEDITATION. 

"  Lord,  to  whom  sliall  we  go  ?     Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life." 

We  do  not  understand  the  Gospel  ;  we  do  not 
comprehend  its  instructions ;  we  do  not  penetrate 
its  spirit.  We  are  very  curious  about  tlie  teach- 
ings of  men,  but  we  neglect  those  of  God.  One 
word  from  the  Gospel  is  worth  all  the  other  books 
in  the  world  ;  this  is  the  source  of  all  truth. 

With  what  love,  what  faith,  what  adoration 
ought  we  to  listen  to  the  words  of  Jesus  Christ ! 
Henceforth  let  us  say  to  him  with  St.  Peter,  "  Lord, 
to  whom  shall  we  go  ?"  A  single  moment  of  self- 
communion,  of  love,  and  of  the  presence  of  God,, 
will  enable  us  to  perceive  and  understand  the  truth, 
better  than  all  the  reasonings  of  men. 


310  MEDITATIONS. 


SECOND   MEDITATION. 

"  Take  heed,  therefore,  that  the  light  which  is  in  thee  be  not  darkness." 

It  is  not  surprising  that  our  sins  should  be  dis- 
pleasing in  the  sight  of  God  ;  but  that  imperfec- 
tions grow  even  out  of  our  virtues,  this  should 
make  us  tremble.  Our  wisdom  is  often  only  a 
worldly  and  selfish  policy ;  our  modesty  a  com- 
posed and  hypocritical  exterior,  to  attract  praise, 
and  for  the  sake  of  appearance  ;  our  zeal,  an  effect 
of  fancy  or  pride  ;  our  frankness  only  thoughtless- 
ness ;  and  so  on. 

How  do  we  shrink  from  those  sacrifices,  Avhich 
we  make  to  God,  while  they  appear  so  meritorious 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world  !  Let  us  beware,  lest  our 
light  turn  into  daikness. 


MEDITATIONS.  311 


THIRD    MEDITATION. 

"  Love  not  the  world  nor  the  tilings  that  are  in  the  world." 

We  rail  at  the  world,  but  we  carry  the  world  in 
our  hearts.  The  world  is  that  multitude  of  peo- 
ple who  love  themselves,  and  who  love  the  crea- 
tures of  earth,  without  reference  to  the  Creator. 

We  are  then  the  world  ourselves,  since  it  means 
only  those  who  love  themselves,  and  who  seek  in 
created  things  the  felicity  only  found  in  God.  We 
must  confess,  then,  that  we  are  of  the  world,  and 
that  we  have  not  the  spirit  of  Jesus  Christ. 

It  is  shameful  to  renounce  the  world  in  appear- 
ance, and  to  retain  its  principles  ;  — jealousy  of 
authority,  love  of  reputation  that  we  do  not  merit, 
dissipation  in  company,  anxiety  for  all  those  indul- 
gences that  flatter  ihe  senses,  cowardice  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  christian  duties,  a  disinclination  for  the 
study  of  the  truths  of  the  Gospel.  This  is  the 
world  :  it  dwells  within  us,  and  we  love  it,  while 
we  are  so  anxious  for  its  favor,  and  so  apprehen- 
sive lest  it  should  forget  us.  Happy  the  holy 
apostle,  "  to  whom  the  world  was  crucified,  and 
who  was  crucified  to  the  world  !" 


312  MEDITATIONS. 

FOURTH    MEDITATION. 

"  My  peace  I  give  unto  you,  not  as  the  world  giveth." 

It  is  sacrificing  little  to  relinquish  this  phantom, 
called  the  world  ;  they  are  to  be  pitied,  who  think 
they  lose  much  in  quitting  it.  Every  true  Chris- 
tian renounces  it.  It  is  to  seek  a  sheltering  port 
from  the  storm. 

The  world,  it  is  true,  promises  peace,  but  it  never 
gives  it ;  it  yields  us  some  fleeting  pleasures,  but 
they  cost  us  more  than  they  are  worth.  It  is  the 
religion  of  Jesus  alone  that  can  give  peace  to  man ; 
it  unites  him  with  his  Saviour  ;  it  subdues  his  pas- 
sions, it  controls  his  desires,  it  consoles  him  with 
the  love  of  Christ ;  it  gives  him  joy  even  in  sorrow, 
and  this  is  a  joy  that  cannot  be  taken  awaj^ 


I 


MEDITATIONS.  313 


FIFTH    MEDITATION. 

"  See  that  ye  love  one  anollier  willi  a  pure  heart  fervently." 

The  Apostle  teaches  us  in  these  words,  that  our 
charity  should  lead  us  to  be  always  attentive  not 
to  give  pain  to  our  neighbor.  Without  this  watch- 
fulness, charity,  which  droops  in  the  world,  would 
soon  die.  A  word  uttered  with  haughtiness  or  un- 
kindness  may  overcome  a  weak  spirit.  Beings  so 
dear  to  God,  the  friends  of  Jesus,  should  be  treated 
by  us  with  gentleness.  If  we  neglect  this  careful- 
ness, we  are  deficient  in  charity. 

We  are  always  attentive  to  those  who  are  dear 
to  us,  and  this  watchful  love  should  fill  our  hearts. 
"  Feed  my  sheep ;"  these  words  of  Jesus  are  appli- 
cable to  us  all,  as  an  exhortation  to  cordiality  and 
tenderness  towards  each  other. 


27 


314  MEDITATIONS. 


SIXTH    MEDITATION. 

"  I  am  not  come  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister." 

This  is  what  every  one  should  say,  who  has 
any  authority  over  others.  It  is  a  ministry.  We 
must  truly  serve  those  whom  we  appear  to  com- 
mand ;  we  must  bear  with  their  imperfections,  cor- 
rect them  with  gentleness  and  patience,  and  lead 
them  in  the  way  to  heaven. 

We  must  be  all  things  to  all  men  ;  consider  our- 
selves as  made  for  them;  soften  by  our  humility 
the  most  necessary  reproofs  ;  never  be  discouraged, 
and  pray  God  to  give  that  change  of  heart,  which 
we  cannot  produce  by  our  efforts. 

Let  us  examine  ourselves  in  relation  to  those 
who  are  committed  to  our  care,  and  for  whom  we 
are  accountable  to  God. 


I 


MEDITjiTIONS.  315 


SEVENTH    MEDITATION. 

"  Learn  of  mo,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  of  heart." 

It  could  have  been  the  Son  of  God  alone,  who 
could  have  given  us  this  divine  lesson.  What  has 
he  not  done  for  the  love  of  us  ?  What  has  he  not 
sufiered,  what  does  he  not  still  feel  for  us  ?  He 
was  led  like  a  victim  to  the  slaughter,  and  no  one 
heard  him  complain ;  and  we  complain  at  the 
slightest  evils ;  we  are  sensitive,  irritable,  and 
proud. 

There  is  no  true  and  constant  gentleness  with- 
out humility ;  while  we  are  so  fond  of  ourselves, 
we  are  easily  offended  with  others.  Let  us  be  per- 
suaded that  nothing  is  due  to  us,  and  then  nothing 
will  disturb  us.  Let  us  often  think  of  our  own 
infirmities,  and  we  shall  become  indulgent  towards 
those  of  others.  Let  us  apply  to  our  hearts  these 
sublime  and  touching  words  of  the  Son  of  God  ; 
"  Learn  of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  of  heart." 


316  MEDITATIONS. 


EIGHTH  MEDITATION. 


'Whosoever  exalteth  himself  shall  be  abased,  and  he  that  humbleth  himself  shall 
be  exalted." 


Do  we  desire  glory  ?  let  us  seek  it  in  its  true 
place ;  let  us  seek  that  which  will  endiire  forever. 
Oh  noble  ambition,  to  dwell  eternally  with  the 
Son  of  God  !  But  how  weak,  how  childish,  this 
eager  desire  for  distinction  in  the  world ;  for  a 
name,  a  reputation,  more  evanescent  than  the  va- 
por that  is  the  sport  of  the  winds  !  Is  a  vain  show 
worth  so  much  pains  ? 

Let  us  aspire  after  true  greatness,  that  is  only 
found  in  humility.  God  rebukes  the  proud  even 
in  this  world,  and  in  the  world  to  come  they  are 
abased  ;  but  the  humble,  even  in  this  life,  shall  re- 
ceive the  respect  that  they  have  not  sought  for, 
and  eternal  glory  shall  be  the  recompense  of  their 
contempt  of  false  and  perishing  honors. 


MEDITATIONS.  317 


NINTH   MEDITATION. 

"  I  sleep,  but  my  heart  waketh." 

We  sleep  in  peace  in  the  arms  of  God,  when  we 
yield  ourselves  up  to  his  providence,  in  a  delight- 
ful consciousness  of  his  tender  mercies  ;  no  more 
restless  uncertainties,  no  more  anxious  desires,  no 
more  impatience  at  the  place  we  are  in ;  for  it  is 
God  who  has  put  us  there,  and  who  holds  us  in 
his  arms.  Can  we  be  unsafe  where  he  has  placed 
us,  and  where  he  watches  over  us  as  a  parent 
watches  a  child  ?  This  confiding  repose,  in  which 
earthly  care  sleeps,  is  the  true  vigilance  of  the 
heart ;  yielding  itself  up  to  God,  with  no  other 
support  than  him,  it  thus  watches  while  we  sleep. 
This  is  the  love  of  him,  that  will  not  sleep  even  in 
death. 


27* 


318  MEDITATIONS. 


TENTH   MEDITATION. 

"  Teach  us  to  pray." 

Lord,  I  know  not  what  I  ought  ask  of  thee ; 
thou  lovest  me  better  than  I  can  love  myself.  Oh 
my  Father,  give  to  thy  child  that  which  he  knows 
not  how  to  ask.  I  dare  not  pray  either  for  crosses 
or  consolations :  I  present  myself  before  thee,  I 
open  my  heart  to  thee.  Behold  those  wants  that 
I  know  not  myself.  See  and  do  according  to  thy 
tender  mercy. 

I  adore  thy  will  without  knowing  it.  I  am 
silent  before  thee :  I  yield  myself  up ;  I  would 
sacrifice  myself  to  thy  will ;  I  would  have  no  other 
desire  than  to  do  it.  Teach  me  to  pray  ;  pray 
thyself  in  me. 


MEDITATIONS.  319 


ELEVENTH    MEDITATION. 

"Lord,  thou  knowcst  that  I  love  thee." 

Saint  Peter  said  this  to  our  Lord  ;  but  shall  we 
dare  to  say  it  ?  Can  we  love  him,  of  whom  we 
do  not  think  ?  What  friend  have  we,  of  whom 
we  had  not  rather  speak  ?  Where  are  we  more 
wearied  than  at  the  foot  of  his  altar  ?  What  do  we 
do  to  please  our  Master,  and  to  render  ourselves 
what  he  wishes  us  to  be  ?  What  do  we  do  for  his 
glory  ?  What  have  we  sacrificed  to  him  ?  Do  we 
prefer  him  even  to  our  lowest  interests,  to  our  most 
unworthy  pleasures?  Where,  then,  is  our  love  for 
him  ? 

Unhappy,  however,  are  those  who  do  not  love 
the  Lord  Jesus,  who  has  so  loved  us.  If  we  do 
love  him,  can  we  be  insensible  to  all  his  benefits  ? 
"Neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  principalities,  nor 
powers,  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  can 
separate  us  from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ 
Jesus  our  Lord." 


320  MEDITATIONS. 

TWELFTH   MEDITATION. 

"  It  is  the  Lord  who  leads  me  ;  I  shall  want  nothing." 

How  weak  it  is  in  us  to  seek  anything  but  God ! 
While  we  have  the  source  of  all  good,  we  think 
ourselves  poor.  We  desire  to  find,  even  in  piety, 
earthly  consolations.  We  look  upon  it  rather  as  a 
softener  of  the  ills  that  we  must  endure,  than  as  a 
state  of  renunciation  and  sacrifice  of  self.  From 
this  arise  our  discouragements.  Let  us  begin  by 
yielding  ourselves  up  to  the  will  of  God.  When 
serving  him,  let  us  have  no  anxiety  about  what  he 
will  do  for  us.  A  little  more  or  a  less  suff"ering  in 
this  short  life,  will  be  but  of  little  consequence. 

What  can  I  want,  if  God  is  wnth  me.  Yes,  God 
himself!  he  is  the  infinite  and  the  only  good. 
Vanish,  all  ye  false  goods  of  earth,  unworthy  of  the 
name  you  bear,  and  often  only  making  men  wicked. 
God  alone  is  good,  he  who  ever  dwells  in  my  soul. 
Let  him  deprive  me  of  my  pleasures,  of  riches,  honor, 
power,  friends,  health,  and  life,  Avhile  he  does  not 
estrange  himself  from  my  heart,  I  shall  still  be 
rich,  I  shall  have  lost  nothing,  I  shall  have  pre- 
served my  all. 

The  Lord  has  sought  me  in  my  wanderings,  has 
loved  me  when  I  have  not  loved  him,  has  regarded 
me  with  com})assion,  notwithstanding  my  ingrati- 
tude. I  am  in  his  hands,  I  feel  my  weakness  and 
his  strength ;  W'itli  such  a  support  I  shall  want 
nothing. 


MEDITATIONS.  321 


<      THIRTEENTH   MEDITATION. 

"  Learn  of  rae,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart;  and  yo  sliall  find  rest  to  your 
souls." 

Almighty  God,  I  come  to  be  instructed  at  thy 
feet.  Thou  art  present,  thou  callest  rae  by  thy 
tender  mercies  ;  speak.  Lord,  thy  servant  heareth. 
Oh,  Eternal  Majesty,  I  come  before  thee  to  receive 
everything  I  desire  from  thee,  and  to  renounce  my- 
self without  reserve. 

Send  me,  Oh  my  God,  thy  holy  spirit ;  let  it  be- 
come mine  ;  I  would  open  my  heart  to  this  spirit 
of  love  and  truth;  let  it  enlighten  me,  let  it  teach 
me  to  be  meek  and  lowly.  Oh  Jesus,  it  is  thou 
who  hast  given  me  this  lesson  of  gentleness  and 
humility.  Thou  teachest  me  to  find  in  it  rest  to 
my  soul.  Alas,  how  far  I  have  been  from  finding 
this  peace!  I  have  sought  it  in  the  vain  imagina- 
tions of  pride,  but  pride  is  incompatible  with  peace  ; 
it  is  ever  desiring  what  it  does  not  possess ;  it 
wishes  to  pass  for  what  it  is  not ;  it  ever  exalts  itself, 
and  God  continually  resists  it,  by  the  envy  and 
contradictions  it  meets  in  the  Avorld,  or  by  its  own 
imperfections  which  it  cannot  help  feeling.  Un- 
happy pride,  that  can  never  know  the  peace  of  the 
children  of  God,  who  are  meek  and  lowly  of  heart. 


322  MEDITATIONS. 


FOURTEENTH   MEDITATION. 


"  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  liath  taken  away." 


This,  oh  Lord,  is  what  thy  servant  Job  said  in  ^ 

the  excess  of  his  sufferings.  It  is  thy  mercy  that 
has  put  these  precious  words  into  the  heart  and 
lips  of  a  sinner  like  me.  Thou  gavest  me  health, 
and  I  forgot  thee  ;  thou  deprivest  me  of  it  and  I 
return  to  thee.  Blessed  be  God,  who  has  taken 
away  his  gifts,  to  bring  me  to  himself. 

Oh  Lord,  deprive  me  of  all  else,  but  restore  to 
me  thyself.  All  things  are  thine,  thou  art  the 
Lord.  Take  from  me  riches,  honor,  health  ;  every- 
thing that  would  separate  me  from  thee. 


MEDITATIONS.  323 


FIFTEENTH    MEDITATION. 

"  Whether  wo  live  or  whether  we  die,  we  arc  the  Lord's." 

Oh  my  God  !  what  is  death  or  Hfe  to  me  ?  Life 
is  nothing ;  it  is  even  a  snare,  if  it  be  too  dear  to 
me.  Death  can  only  destroy  this  house  of  clay ; 
it  delivers  the  soul  from  the  contamination  of  the 
body,  and  from  its  own  pride.  It  frees  it  from  the 
influence  of  the  tempter,  and  introduces  it  forever 
into  the  kingdom  of  truth. 

I  ask  not,  then,  oh  my  Father,  for  health  or  for 
life.  I  make  an  offering  to  thee  of  all  my  days. 
Thou  hast  counted  them.  I  would  know  nothing 
more.  All  I  ask,  is  to  die  rather  than  live  as  I 
have  lived ;  and  if  it  be  thy  will  that  I  depart,  let 
me  die  in  patience  and  love.  Almighty  God,  who 
boldest  the  keys  of  the  tomb  in  thy  hand,  to  open 
and  close  it  at  thy  will,  give  me  not  life  if  I  shall 
love  it  too  well.  Living  or  dying,  I  would  be 
thine. 


324  GENERAL    PRAYER. 


GENERAL   PRAYER. 

Oh  God  !  so  great,  yet  so  intimately  with  us, 
so  far  above  these  heavens,  and  yet  so  near  to  the 
lowest  of  thy  creatures,  filling  immensity,  and  yet 
dwelling  in  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  so  terrible  and 
yet  so  worthy  of  love,  when  will  thy  children  cease 
to  be  ignorant  of  thee  ?  Oh  !  that  I  might  find  a 
voice  loud  enough  to  reproach  the  world  for  its 
blindness ;  and  to  declare  with  authority  all  that 
thou  art.  When  we  tell  men  to  seek  thee  in  their 
own  hearts,  it  is  easier  for  them  to  seek  thee  in  the 
most  distant  parts  of  the  world.  What  is  more 
unknown,  and  more  remote,  from  vain,  and  dissi- 
pated men,  than  their  own  hearts?  Do  they  know 
what  it  iS;  to  enter  into  themselves?  Have  they 
ever  sought  the  way  ?  Can  they  imagine  what 
it  iS;  this  inward  sanctuary,  this  impenetrable 
depth  of  the  soul,  where  thou  wilt  be  worshipped 
in  spirit  and  in  truth  ?  They  dwell  far  off  in  the 
objects  of  their  ambition  and  their  vain  pleasures. 

Alas !  how  shall  they  listen  to  heavenly  truths, 
since,  as  Jesus  Christ  has  said,  they  do  not  regard 
even  earthly  truth?  For  me,  oh  my  Creator! 
shutting  my  eyes  to  external  things,  which  are 
only  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit,  I  would  com- 
mune with  thee,  in  my  secret  heart,  through  thy 
son  Jesus  Christ. 


GENERAL    PRAYER.  325 

Oh  God !  we  do  not  know  thee.  It  is  by  thee 
that  we  live,  that  we  think,  that  we  enjoy;  and 
we  forget  Him  from  whom  come  all  things.  We  see 
nothing  but  through  thee,  the  universal  light ;  by 
thee  alone  we  see  anything  ;  and  yet  we  see  not 
thee  thyself  It  is  thou  who  givest  all ;  to  the  stars 
their  light,  to  the  fountains  their  waters  and  their 
courses,  to  the  earth  its  plants,  to  the  fruits  their 
flavor,  to  the  flowers  their  splendor  and  their  per- 
fume, to  all  nature  its  abundance  and  its  beauty. 
To  man  thou  givest  health,  reason,  thou  givest  him 
all  things  ;  thou  doest  all ;  thou  rulest  over  all.  I 
see  only  thee  ;  all  other  things  are  but  as  shadows 
before  the  eyes  of  him  who  has  once  seen  thee  ; 
and  the  world  does  not  see  thee  !  But  alas !  he 
who  has  not  seen  thee,  has  seen  nothing  ;  he  has 
passed  his  life  in  the  illusion  of  a  dream  ;  he  is 
as  if  he  were  not — more  unhappy  still,  for  as  I 
learn  from  thy  word  it  had  been  better  for  him 
that  he  had  not  been  born. 

Oh  God!  when  shall  we  return  love  for  love? 
When  shall  we  seek  him  who  ever  seeks  us,  and 
whose  arms  are  ever  around  us  ?  It  is  in  thy  pa- 
ternal bosom  that  we  forget  thee.  The  blessings 
we  every  moment  receive  from  thee,  instead  of 
touching  our  hearts,  turn  our  thoughts  away  from 
thee.  Thou  art  the  source  of  all  happiness :  thy 
creatures  are  only  the  channels  through  which  it 
flows ;  and  the  stream  leads  us  away  from  the 
28 


326  EVENING    PRAYER. 

fountain.  This  boundless  love  follows  us  every- 
where, and  we  flee  from  it.  It  is  everywhere,  and 
we  do  not  perceive  it.  We  think  ourselves  alone 
when  we  are  only  with  God.  He  does  all  for  us, 
and  we  do  not  trust  in  him  ;  we  despair  when  we 
have  no  other  resource  than  his  providence,  and 
count  for  nothing  infinite  love,  and  infinite  power. 


EVENING   PRAYER. 


Oh  Lord  !  watch  over  me,  lest  I  sleep  the  sleep 
of  death.  Alas  !  this  day,  has  it  not  been  void  of 
good  works  ?  In  it  we  might  have  gained  ever- 
lasting life,  and  we  have  lost  it  in  vain  pleasures. 
Perhaps  it  may  be  the  last  of  a  life  undeserving  of 
thy  mercy.  Oh  fool !  perhaps  this  very  night  Jesus 
may  come  to  demand  of  thee  thy  soul,  the  image 
of  the  great  God,  which  thou  hast  disfigured  by  sin. 

Oh  Lord!  grant  that  whilst  I  sleep,  thy  love 
may  watch  over  me,  and  keep  guard  around  my 
heart.  I  am  the  prodigal  son  ;  I  have  wandered 
far  away  into  a  strange  land,  where  I  have  lost  all 
my  inheritance.  I  am  starving,  and  a  beggar  :  but 
I  know  what  I  will  do  ;  I  will  return  to  my  Fa- 


PRAYER    TO    GOD.  327 

ther  ;  I  will  say  to  him,  oh  my  Father !  I  have 
sinned  against  heaven  and  against  thee.  Art  thou 
not  the  good  shepherd  who  leaves  his  flock  to  go 
into  the  desert  after  a  single  wandering  sheep  ? 
Hast  thou  not  declared  that  there  is  joy  in  heaven 
over  a  single  sinner  who  repents  ?  Thou  wilt  not 
then  despise  an  humble  and  contrite  heart. 

Oh  Lord!  watch  over  my  spirit  while  I  wake, 
and  my  body  while  I  sleep,  that  I  may  sleep  in 
peace  and  awake  in  Jesus.  Pity  my  weakness. 
Send  thy  holy  angels,  spirit  of  light,  that  they  may 
keep  far  from  me  the  spirit  of  evil  that  is  ever 
around  me.  Grant  that  I  may  resist  it  with  the 
courage  of  faith.  Give  jjenitence  to  sinners,  perse- 
verance to  the  just,  and  peace  to  the  dead.  Let 
my  evening  prayer  rise  to  thee,  oh  Lord ;  and  let 
thy  blessing  descend  upon  me. 


PRAYER    TO    GOD. 


Oh  my  God  !  while  so  many  of  thy  children  are 
unconscious  of  thy  presence  in  this  glorious  scene 
of  nature  that  thou  presentest  to  them,  still  thou 
art  not  far  from  any  one  of  them.     Thou  art  near 


328  PRAYER    TO    GOD. 

US,  but  we  do  not  perceive  thee  ;  our  passions  blind 
us,  but  we  do  not  perceive  thee  ;  our  passions  blind 
us.  Thus,  Oh  Lord,  thy  light  shineth  in  tlie  dark- 
ness, and  the  darkness  comprehendeth  it  not.  Thou 
discoverest  thyself  everywhere,  but  men  do  not 
see  thee.  All  nature  speaks  of  thee,  and  resounds 
with  thy  most  holy  name  ;  but  its  voice  is  uttered 
to  deafened  ears, — they  will  not  hear.  Thou  art 
near  them  and  within  them,  but  they  fly  from 
themselves  and  from  thee.  They  would  find  thee, 
oh  thou  eternal  and  holy  light,  fountain  of  all  pure 
and  unfailing  felicity,  life  of  all  true  existence,  if 
they  would  seek  thee  within  their  souls.  But 
alas  !  thy  good  gifts  that  declare  the  bounty  of  the 
giver,  turn  then'  attention  from  the  hand  that  be- 
stows them.  They  live  in  thee  without  thinking 
of  thee  ;  or  rather  they  die,  for  to  be  ignorant  of 
thee  is  death.  Thou  supportest  them  in  the  arms 
of  thy  mercy,  and  they  are  unconscious  of  it.  It 
is  because  thou  art  within  them,  in  the  temple  of 
the  soul  into  which  they  never  enter,  that  thou 
art  hidden  from  them. 

The  order  and  beauty  of  the  creation,  is  like  a 
veil  that  hides  thee  from  their  weak  vision.  The 
light  that  should  enlighten,  blinds  them.  Thou 
art  too  high  and  too  pure  to  be  perceived  by  their 
gross  senses.  T'ho  earthly  minded  cannot  compre- 
hend thee.  Frightful  darkness  that  envelopes  the 
children  of  men !  when  they  can  see  only  shad- 


PRAYER    TO    GOD.  329 

ows,  and  even  truth  appears  a  phantom;  when 
what  is  nothing  seems  all  to  them,  and  what  is 
everything  is  as  nothing  to  them.  What  do  I  see 
in  all  nature  ?  God  !  God  is  everything,  and  God 
alone  !  Who  does  not  see  thee,  has  seen  nothing. 
He  is  as  if  he  were  not,  and  his  whole  life  is  as  a 
dream.  Sorrow  to  the  soul,  that  has  not  seen  thee, 
that  is  far  from  God,  without  hope,  without  conso- 
lation !  But  blessed  already  are  they  who  seek 
thee,  who  thirst  for  thee  !  Unspeakable  the  felicity 
of  those,  who  rejoice  in  thy  immediate  presence, 
from  whose  eyes  thou  hast  wiped  away  every  tear, 
and  whose  hearts  are  filled  with  thy  love  and 
presence  ! 


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